


Teacher and Student

by MegTheFireGoddess



Series: Copper and Shadow [1]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegTheFireGoddess/pseuds/MegTheFireGoddess
Summary: Rewrite of Wild Magic from Numair's POV. Cannon deviation and additions abound so don't expect it to follow all of the rules of the Tortall series. References to Tempest and Slaughter.





	1. Noble

**Author's Note:**

> After reading Tempest and Slaughter, I went back and reread The Immortals Series and found myself imagining different parts of the story from Numair's POV since he was always my favorite character in the Tortall books.
> 
> Also, not to knock Tammy because I love her work but I always wanted to see some follow through on a few of the things set up in The Immortals (like WTF does Daine just live with that shield the rest of her life? And why can Daine and Numair see all the lights in the trees and stuff in the clearing but it's never mentioned again? What was the point?) so I decided to change the story a bit in a few places. Nothing too serious but enough that it's obvious.
> 
> Enjoy!

As Numair stood at the top of the stairs, he had the strange feeling he was standing on a precipice.

He could turn back, ignore the pleas for mercy, and find Alanna or he could descend into the inky blackness and try to save those who could not save themselves. The former choice would allow for his quiet escape; the latter would undoubtedly lead to his capture.

He knew which choice Jonathan would want him to make but Numair wasn’t the king. His saturnine appearance, from his long inky hair to his swarthy skin, painted him as a man not of Tortallan birth. His loyalty wasn’t ingrained, it was something he had adopted.

Which was why he found himself stepping into the darkness in search of the source of those agonized screams.

Witch fire touched his fingers when he called it, bathing the long hallway in white light. Iron bars were evenly spaced every four feet, built into stone walls that wept with humid filth. The smell was acidic, more like a plague ward than a prison. No living creature should be kept in such conditions, no matter their crime. Death was better.

At the first prison door, Numair peered into a small stone room. There was no bed, not even a bucket to use as a privy, only the decomposing remains of what had once been a man.

Numair’s brain involuntarily cataloged information. This man had been of Gallan descent and no older than thirty. His twice-broken nose and heavy calluses marked him as a hostler. Yet it was the grey skin tone that tripped something in Numair’s memory.

The mage had barely survived his own encounter with the poison Gissa created.

It worked slowly- making the victim malleable while simultaneously attacking the nervous system. These people had no idea they were being poisoned until it started to burn them from the inside out.

Shaking the unwanted memories from his mind, Numair forced his feet forward toward the second cell. The girl sitting in the corner was on the edge of surrender, not even opening her eyes at his echoing footsteps. Instead, she kept her knees to her chest, her head supported by the wall at her back. Her mousey-brown hair was rigid with blood and dirt, while her simple cotton dress was stained with fluids.

Gritting his teeth against the sight, he dismissed his witchlight in favor of igniting the torches dotted throughout the hallway. They cast the dungeon in an orange glow that flicked shadows across the iron bars. As he held his hand over the heavy padlock, the latch hissed and turned red before faĺling to the floor in pieces. Numair pushed the door open and knelt before the girl. Gods, she couldn’t be older than fifteen and so thin that her skeleton was visible through her skin.

Softly, as if she were made of glass, Numair reached out and touched her shoulder. She jerked away from the touch, a reaction born from fighting for far too long. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing hollow pupils rimmed in dull green.

"It’s alright. I’m here to help.”

The girl sighed gravely, “I’m tired of this dream. Why won’t you just let me die already?”

“This isn’t a dream,” he told her delicately, “My name is Numair. What is yours?”

“Ora,” she replied, a note of hope to her voice- a spark that kept her heart beating despite her resignation. All he needed was a spark.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ora. Can you stand?”

Her eyes widened for a moment but she nodded and Numair leaned down to help her to her feet. She swayed on malnourished legs but found her footing holding onto his arm. Together they walked through the prison door.

Outside the cell, he helped her lean against the wall. “Stay here, I'm going to check the other cells.”

“Don’t bother,” she said sadly, “The last potion killed everyone but me.”

Despite her warning, he checked for himself and found, much to his sorrow, Ora was right. The only things in the other cells were corpses. The older man in the last cell had died recently and was likely the source of the screams heard from the stairway judging by the way his face was contorted in agony.

Synthia and his mage would pay for this, even if Numair had to hunt the men to the end of the earth.

Pushing his dark thoughts aside, he offered his arm to Ora, “Come. I’ll get you away from this vile place.”

She steeled herself and nodded, a new strength touching her eyes. With a will made unbreakable by her trust, he led her from the dark dungeon and into the evening sun that filtered through the castle’s high windows.

Ora marveled at the sunlit view, wide eyes staring up at the golden rays in awe.

During his weeks here Numair had memorized the best entry and exit points in the castle. The doorway off the kitchen was rarely guarded but was a congregation place for the servants. Taking Ora that way would be too dangerous, leaving him with only one other means of egress- the exit just off of the mage’s tower.

Careful to avoid passing servants, Numair led Ora through the halls of the castle and to the locked door that would take them to freedom. He held his hands over the lock as he had in the dungeon, cracking the guard spell and melting the mechanism as if it was child’s play. Yet, the moment the metal around the knob began to turn red, the girl screamed.

When Numair turned, prepared to fight off potential attackers, he found Ora staring at the red-hot lock in open terror.

He reached out to quiet her, but she stumbled away from him, falling backward in the process.

Guards were upon them in moments, surrounding Numair and the terrified girl. Raising his hands in surrender, Numair waited for the inevitable consequences of his decision but, instead of being immediately led to the dungeons, he was greeted by a smiling Lord Sinthya and his mage.

The lord was shorter than average, with thinning auburn hair and green eyes that danced with greed. To Numair, he looked like any man who had been bullied and just wanted revenge. It was the mage that made Numair shutter. Draped in the red robe of mastery, he was gaunt with close-set eyes that peered at Numair as if he were prey.

The mage tisked, “Oh, Master Salmalin, I’m almost disappointed. To have an illustrious black robe mage like yourself falling for such an obvious trick, it’s disgraceful to those of us who only made it to red robe status.”

Scowling, Numair gestured to the girl shaking on the floor, “What did you do to her?”

The mage shrugged as if it were of little consequence, “Psychological conditioning through the use of poison. While I had hoped to use the process to create wholly loyal spies, it also has the added benefit of creating the perfect victim for one self-righteous idiot to rescue.”

As if on cue, the girl gurgled and blood spilled from the corners of her mouth and eyes. Numair went to her, calling forth his magic to burn the poison from her, but it was already too late. By the time he reached her, she was dead.

Numair pinned the mage with a look that should have turned him to ash, “I hope the gods have mercy on you because I won’t.”

The evil man only smiled as the air around Numair changed, like a wall of invisible bricks had been placed around him. His breathing came short and fast as he felt familiar dampening spells pressing in on him, created specifically for him by a man he had once called a friend.

He was completely helpless when he heard Sinthya’s mage whisper a sleeping spell, unable to do more than let himself fall away.


	2. The Girl Made of Copper Light

Sometime later, Numair awoke inside the same dungeon where he had found the dead hostler. It had been modified with chains that secured Numair’s wrists and ankles to the floor but, beyond the physical confines, he could still feel the heavy weight of the dampening spell. 

Immediately, his heart jumped into his throat. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. Desperate eyes searched for any hope, any escape from the darkness.

That was when he saw another form chained to the wall beside him.

Ora’s limp body was held upright by iron shackles nailed into the mortar. She was not even two feet away from him, a symbol of his failure.

The creaking of rusted metal pulled Numair’s attention to the prison door. Framed by the torchlight in the hallway, the mage who had captured him stood like a shadow against shadows.

“Master Salmalin,” the mage said darkly, “I had hoped to turn you over to the Emperor whole and cognizant, but it seems my current employer is impatient.”

Numair struggled against his chains. He wouldn’t die like this. He couldn’t.

The mage chuckled cruelly, “You recover quickly, I expected you to be completely weak after being subjected to the poison.” At the mention of poison, Numair glanced down to see the needle marks on his skin. “It seems that one as strong as you is not so easily tamed. Perhaps Lord Synthia is right to want you dealt with sooner rather than later.”

Pulling a vial from the belled sleeve of his robe, the man uncorked the top and moved toward Numair once more. The liquid inside the bottle was the color of blood.

The mage’s face, visible now that he was closer, was twisted into a smirk, “You should be thanking me. If I were not here to make you more compliant than Lord Sinthya would surely have strapped you to the rack.”

Numair’s only answer was to struggle harder.

The red-robed mage called over his shoulder and two guards came into the room. He motioned and the guards held Numair to stone while the mage dug an injecting needle from his other sleeve.

Numair’s blood roared in his ears as he willed himself to move. He had to do something before the mage was able to inject him! He had to escape!

Suddenly he found himself shrinking. Feathers sprouted along his limbs as his body reformed into that of a hawk. 

The stunned guards could only gape after him as he flapped his newly-formed wings and darted out the open cell door. 

Free of his prison, he found his mind coming back to him foggily; whatever Lord Sinthya’s mage had given him made it difficult to determine his surroundings. On one hand, he knew he was outside the castle (had he flown out a window?) but on the other, he couldn’t tell if he was going the right direction.

All he could do was keep flying and hope he found Alanna soon. She was his only hope.

A combination of eagle call and human warcry sounded from behind him and he glanced back to see great shadows looming on the horizon. At first, they looked like a flock of rather large birds, but as they grew closer he could make out the human head and chest fused on a bird-body made of metal feathers. Stormwings. 

“SPY!” cried one of the creatures, a female with a crown of black glass.

Numair tucked his wings and dove, continuing in a spiraling fall until he was about to hit the ground, then he stretched his feathered limbs as far as they would go. On a wave of warmer air, he was lifted back toward the sky.

The stormwings tried to follow him but they were large and clumsy where he was small and nimble. Still, they were not easily lost, remaining behind him as he ascended.

Bird-of-prey eyes found a marsh in the distance and his thudding heart cast it as salvation.

As he darted through the dense cypress, he heard the scraping of metal on wood and a loud splash. Without thought, he looked back to see the carnage as one of his pursuers sunk into the thick mud. That had been a mistake, the trees were too close together. Numair clipped one of the trunks and went spiraling downward into a thicket. The crowned stormwing cackled at his error, diving after him. Her metal wings cut through the brambles as if they were daisies, allowing her to catch him in her steal-like beak. The metal jaws closed around him, bringing forth the sickening crunch of bone.

In his desperation to survive, he sent his beak into the creature’s eye. The stormwing cried out, releasing him, and sending him spinning into a patch of reeds.

“You little-!” screamed the stormwing queen, “What are you waiting for? Get the motherless spy!”

He pulled himself toward a hollow log and prayed as the poison overcame him, turning his world from watery shadows to complete darkness.

A voice from the darkness, barely audible on the edges of his consciousness, beckoned to him.

He opened his eyes to see a figure standing over him, consumed by copper light. He had never heard of a wild goddess like her, but something in his bones told him she was divine. Maybe it was the way the light played in her curly brown hair, highlighting the strands with streaks of gold. Or perhaps it was her soft smokey eyes which seemed to hold knowledge far beyond her teenage appearance.

No, it was neither of those things. It was a feeling, that aura of trustworthiness that surrounded her like a cloud and made him react against his will. When she called to him, he obediently pulled himself forward. When she bid him to remain calm, he was overcome with serenity. When she told him to be brave, he was.

Entranced, he watched her splint his broken wing with some reeds and cloth. 

He shouldn’t still have wings, should he? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that under the careful hands of this girl-goddess he had found safety at last. 

The feeling of living underwater was pierced by moments of clarity. Onua was there once. Her green eyes, set deep and wide into her weathered face, pleaded with him. Why wouldn’t he change back? He couldn't answer, the simple question pulling him back into the depths. After that, the outside world became increasingly intangible until only the girl with the smokey eyes remained. She was like his lifeline, tethering him to the mortal realm with threads of copper light.

Just before the darkness finally consumed him, he saw tears streaking the girl’s cheeks and he knew he had failed her. Just as he had Ora.

His dreamscape took the form of a foggy meadow, the cold grey whisps so thick they made him blind. It reminded him of smoke more than true fog, the very thought turning the landscape into a battlefield.

“Arram, you’ve gone too far. Come back.” A soft voice echoed in his ears. 

He searched for the source and found floating tendrils of copper light. They cut through the fog like sunlight, beckoning to him. 

Slithering into him, it traveling through his fingers and up his arms to wrap around his heart.

“It’s alright Arram, it’s safe,” the voice assured him.

He nodded his understanding and the light began pulling him through the fog until he found himself staring up at a canvas ceiling. 

He blinked and a familiar round face appeared in his vision.

“By the goddess, Numair! You lanky fool! What were you thinking? Shifting while you were filled with so much poison!” The woman above him yelled.

He tried to smile up at her, “Nice to see you too, Alanna.”

The redness of anger drained from her, leaving only concern to backlight her amethyst eyes. Alanna took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making her voice steady. “Sleep, you dolt.”

He didn’t have much of a choice. Not when his eyelids felt so heavy. “As you wish, my lady.”

The last thing he heard was her chuckle.


	3. Too Young Not To Laugh

His dream was strange.

Numair sat in the empty stands of the gladiatorial arena in Carthak. 

Of all the places in his former home, this was one of the few he had wished never to see again.

He clenched his fists against a torrent of memories only to have something bite into his palm. Opening his hand, he found he was holding a pair of dice. The small cubes were semi-transparent and streaked with red, like blood frozen into ice.

“So, you’ve finally met her,” said a cackling voice that was both familiar and not at the same time.

His head swiveled and found an old woman sitting beside him. She clung to a gnarled walking stick as if it were the only thing keeping her from pitching forward, intently watching the arena sands. Numair followed her line of sight to find she was engrossed in a game only she could see, her mischievous eyes glittering with excitement. “Isn’t she amazing? Imagination for days, that one.”

Sitting beside her Numair felt fifteen again- a youth with too long limbs and a naive mind prone to asking unnecessary questions. “Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Arram. You're far too clever for that.” Her frown turned into a smirk within a heartbeat, “I think that’s why I like you so much, clever boys with golden hearts are so rare. It’s enough to make an old woman’s knees go weak.”

He was furrowing his brow at her assessment when her walking stick came down on his head.

“OW!”

“Pay attention!”

“To what?” he snapped as he rubbed his head where a large bump had started to form. Yet Numair’s injury was soon forgotten as the goddess pointed toward the arena.

Where there had only been sand stood the girl with the smokey eyes, a bow aimed it at enemies hidden in the trees. She was back to back with Alanna in a defensive position, black blood sliding down the steel of the knight's sword in a sickening pattern of gravity-drawn rivers.

Spidrens, creatures with the head of a man and body of a black tarantula, encircled the two warriors slowly. One of the animals had already fallen, its furry body sliced in two. The others had learned from its folly, patiently waiting for that perfect moment to strike. One particularly clever creature moved to the top of the trees and shot a string of web across the clearing, missing Alanna by mere inches. Then, when she was distracted, the Spidren leaped from its perch. The girl recovered from the shock of the web far quicker than Alanna, loosing an arrow that went right through the creature’s open jaws and into its brain. Alanna barely had time to scramble out of the way before the spidren landed where she had been standing, hitting the ground with a sickening squelch.

The girl stared at the monster she had killed with wide eyes, leaving her back exposed to the spidren behind her.

It leaped at her and Numair jumped to his feet, throwing out his hands as if his dream self could save her.

“LOOK OUT!”

As if she could hear him, she spun and loosed the second arrow with the practiced ease of someone who had been born with a bow in her hand. The would-be attacker fell, dangling lifelessly from a glowing tangle of webbing.

With three of their comrades dead, the remaining spidrens retreated into the shadows from whence they came. The fight was over.

Numair fell back into his seat, his heart pounding in his ears as a feeling deep in his chest threatened to strangle him.

“See?” said the old woman, her pointy elbow stabbing him in the ribs, “I told you she was amazing! Such passion for one so young!”

Before Numair could recover, he was shoved back into the darkness.

 

When Numair awoke, the electrifying feeling of magic slid across his skin. He turned his head to find Alanna sitting in a corner, speaking to her open palm. As soon as she noticed him, though, she said her goodbyes to the king and closed her hand.

“So lives the great Numair Salmalin,” she said with a teasing smile.

He groaned comically, “I feel like I could sleep for a year. Or eat an entire harvest. I’m not sure which one I want to do more.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said, her voice cold in spite of his joke, “Your arm was broken, you were poisoned, your magic was completely drained, and you had a fever so high that I could’ve cooked eggs on your forehead. You’re lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for Daine, you probably wouldn’t be.”

“Daine?” he asked, stretching to find himself still naked underneath his blankets.

Noticing the direction of his eyes, Alanna waved toward a set of neatly folded clothes atop a pair of leather boots. There was even a thin leather tie set there so that he could pull back his inky curls. It was a small thing, but something that only a best friend would think of.

He nodded his thanks and sat up, careful to keep the blankets draped around his waist as he reached for the clothes. Alanna never looked away as he began to dress, long practiced at remaining ambivalent in the face of nudity. Still, he did her the courtesy of dressing as quickly as his stiff limbs would allow.

“Daine,” she said, picking up the conversation where they had left off, “works for Onua. They were driving ponies to Corus when they found you. She’s quite an amazing girl. Nursed you, saved my life.” Alanna’s eyes went distant, “but she’s afraid of something. I can see it.”

With a shake of her head, Alanna focused back on Numair just as he finished pulling breeches on under the blankets. “It's like she has the gift but different somehow.”

Numair nodded as pieces of the puzzle began to settle into place.

“She isn’t gifted, but she’s definitely powerful,” he said, his tone disturbingly academic to his ears.

“So you sense it too?” Alanna asked.

He scoffed, “I sensed it as a hawk, dazed and half-dead, not nearly lucid enough to determine what it was.”

Alanna rolled her eyes, “She’s not one of your damned specimens to be studied. She’s a girl, and as I said, I owe her my life.”

Numair looked at the ground as he smirked at the Lioness’ not-so-veiled warning, “Apparently, so do I.”

Alanna's expression turned menacing, “And you’d best remember it, you fool. I swear, the black god must want to keep you out of his realms as long as possible with the way you’re constantly being turned from his door.”

“It must be true. My survival rate is far passed realistic probability at this point.”

It was meant to be a joke but he had the feeling that Alanna didn’t find it funny as she quickly hid her face from his view. “My point is, Master Salmalin, you’d best be VERY kind to that girl.”

Numair held up his hands in mock surrender, “I swear by all the gods in all the realms, Daine will have nothing but gratitude from me.”

“Good,” said The Lioness as she stood to exit the tent, refusing to look at him.

Once she was gone, Numair thought that maybe he owed Alanna an apology. What for? He had no idea.

 

Sometime later a clerk with the King’s Own arrived in the tent to take down Numair’s report for transport to the king. Numair told the story of his infiltration of Lord Sinthya’s castle staff as a tailor and his eventual discovery of those who were kept in the dungeons. He purposely skipped his attempt to save Ora, the wounds there still fresh to put voice to, and ended on his drugged flight from the castle.

After the report was complete, the clerk told Numair that Alanna and the King’s Own would be riding ahead to Corrus. He was to remain with Onua and Daine.

Numair raised an eyebrow at the almost bored way the clerk relayed the information, “Surely those were not her exact words?”

“Of course not,” replied the clerk, the corners of his mouth twitching, “You know as well as I that the Lioness’ orders always come paired with a threat or two.”

“Let me guess. It was something like, ‘and he’d better make himself useful or I’ll re-break that damned arm of his’.”

Bowing his head in a respectful gesture was the only acknowledgment the clerk was willing to give before he stood and left.

A short time later, a stampede of hoofbeats alerted Numair that Alanna and the Own were riding off.

That evening, Numair plucked up the strength to exit the tent and found his two companions sitting beside a large fire mending tack.

Onua smiled at him, without words telling him she was happy to see him looking well. He was equally pleased to see her. There were some friends, like Alanna, who was a dominating presence in his life but Onua would always be that one person who could easily slip in and out of his world without their friendship ever fading.

“How’d you find a pair big enough?” Onua asked aloud, pointing the awl in her hand toward his boots.

“Alanna had to spell them,” he replied with a self-deprecating smirk.

Onua chuckled and waved toward the kettle hanging above the fire and then to a stack of dishes, “There’s some tea in the kettle and a clean mug over there.”

“Thanks,” he said, moving to pour himself a steaming cup before sitting cross-legged beside the fire.

Save for the chirping of nearby birds; a comfortable silence settled over the group but as the minutes ticked by, he felt his gift begin to buzz under his skin. Alarmed, he called forth his gift and blinked. The world around him, from the trees to the animals that lived in them, glowed a soft white. Even the air itself shimmered slightly, creating the illusion of an ethereal mist that whispered through the forest.

His gift, manifesting as a sparkling shadow, mingled with the white light around him like ink spilled on parchment, seeping into it and becoming one. He’d learned during his school days that his gift’s connection to nature was not something most mages had. It was what unnerved him most about the dampening spell created for him. While most dampening spells suppressing a person’s magic so they could not draw upon it, Numair’s magic was impossible to dampen without first creating a barrier between him and the natural world. The sensation was similar to stepping out of a warm room and into a freezing night, except so much more jarring.

Among the white glow was bits of color that shone brighter than the rest, those visible lights that ebbed and flowed like lava. The wieldable magic of the world. The gift.

Onua’s gift made her appear a deep cinnamon color in the growing twilight. Underneath her gift was a second color, a copper fire that flickered near the center of her chest. Horse-hearted was what the K’miri called Onua’s instinctual ability to understand the ponies she cared for but scholars who studied such things had deemed it Wild Magic. Numair had never understood the name until he looked at Daine.

She was ablaze with copper light to the point that it was dazzling, tongues of copper flame shooting out in all different directions to touch whatever animal happened to be within range. It was untamed. Unruly. Wild. So much so that Numair was surprised that Daine hadn’t been consumed by it.

It was this uncontrolled outpouring of magic that had made his gift vibrate within him. Her wild magic reached for him, never touching but drawn toward him all the same, and just the nearness of it made the sparkling shadow of his gift glow brighter.

“So, you’re still drained?” asked Onua shocking Numair out of his magical sight.

Realizing that Onua was simply trying to fill the silence, he schooled his features into that mask of composure he had perfected over the years. “Not really but it’ll be a long time before I’ll be able to retake hawk shape.”

A huff of exasperation from his left pulled his attention once more to the girl with the smokey eyes. She was struggling with her leatherwork, a classic case of too many pieces and not enough hands as she tried to set some stitching to the end of a harness.

Unwittingly, he reached out and wrapped his long fingers around the pieces, holding them in place.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“You look different.” Seeing her without his magical sight was like seeing her for the first time despite the way she had dominated his world during his time stuck as a hawk. Gone was the confident creature from his dreams, replaced with a simple girl prone to those same insecurities that plagued every mortal her age.

Daine's head shot up in surprise and he realized he’d spoken allowed. In order to cover the slip he smirked, “You used to be a lot bigger.”

A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her bow-shaped mouth, “Seems that you were a bit smaller now that I think of it.”

Onua grinned, accentuating the deep lines in her bronze skin, “Numair? Small? Now I really have heard everything.”

Daine glanced at Onua in alarm before returning to look at Numair with suspicion, “I thought your name was Arram?”

Numair turned a chiding look at the horse mistress before offering Daine a kind smile, “Arram was my boyhood name, now I go by Numair.”

“I see,” said Daine, quickly looking down at her work to finish the stitches. Once she had finished, Numair put more distance between them than was likely necessary as he could almost see the metaphorical walls come crashing down around her. The sight unnerved him to the point that he couldn’t look at her and instead stared intensely into the campfire.

The embers glowed and dimmed in time with his words as he spoke, “Alanna was quick to inform me that I would have been dead if not for you. It seems you have quite a gift.”

“I do not!” she snapped, her leatherwork falling to the ground, “I don’t see why everyone thinks I do! Who’d want it anyways! It’s more trouble than it’s worth seeing as all it got you was nearly dead and stuck in a hawk body!”

Halfway through her tirade, she came to her feet with her fists clenched at her sides. Numair leaned back from the heat of her unexpected anger, his brow furrowed in confusion.

In a torrent of fury, she spun and stomped away.

Onua sighed and Numair echoed it.

“What did I say?” he asked quietly, his heart clenching at the thought that he’d done something to upset her.

“Her mother was convinced she would develop the gift. Kept testing her. I think she’s ashamed to think her mother died disappointed in her.”

“How did her mother die?”

“Bandits killed her and Daine’s grandfather last fall.”

Numair looked down sadly. It was a tragedy to be sure but it didn’t explain the darkness he’d glimpsed in her eyes. He knew the look of an orphan, had met far too many not to, but what haunted Daine wasn’t the angry-despair of someone who had lost their family to evil. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Numair was intimately familiar with the fear he had glimpsed in her. It was a fear that was pointed inward.

“I should go after her,” said Onua, already setting aside her leather work.

Numair raised a hand to stop her, “No. I’ll give her some time to cool off then I’ll go.”

Onua nodded and picked her work back up but before she started tooling once more, she looked at Numair thoughtfully. “You think she has the gift?”

Numair shook his head, “No, she has wild magic. Pure and simple.”

Onua did not doubt his assessment. As a horsewoman, she did not challenge the natural magic of the world as so many others did. There were mages of the highest order and standing that would have laughed at him for even suggesting the possibility that the girl was anything more than an ordinary hedgewitch, those born with so little of the gift that it was only good for minor healing and midwifery. Numair knew differently.

“Be careful, Arram. She’s not a very trusting soul. At least when it comes to two-leggers.”

He smiled kindly at his old friend, “I will.” Standing, he stretched with a groan, “Use Numair, won’t you? There are still too many people who would love to deliver my head to the Emperor.” He forced himself to grin rather than let the memories of the past take hold, “Besides, what great sorcerer has a name like Arram Draper?”

Onua smiled in spite of the dark turn of their conversation, “Right because it’s not enough to have the gift, you need a fancy name and robe to go along with it.”

“Exactly,” he joked.

Her chuckle followed him as he entered the forest in pursuit of Diane.

Numair found her sitting on a log, a chipmunk at her feet. The little animal chattered incessantly and Diane listened with a kind smile. Numair didn’t need his magical sight to know her magic was at work.

She giggled suddenly and then reached down to offer the furry animal a bit of seed from her pocket. The chipmunk took the food with a squeak and shoved it into its cheeks. Then it nuzzled Daine’s hand before bounding back into the forest.

“He seemed to have a lot to say,” said Numair, announcing his presence.

She watched the chipmunk disappear, “It’s the normal spring talk. Freshening up the burrow and such. I told him where to find some fresh mint.” Remembering herself, she blushed and stammered, “I mean- I didn’t tell him, I-”

He held up a hand to stop her and she took a deep breath before attempting to speak again, “Master Numair, what I said earlier- well, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

Shaking his head in dismissal, he offered her a kind smile, “No offense taken. If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t trying to say you have the gift. What you have is very different from what we would call gifted.”

Daine shook her head vehemently, “I just have a way with animals, sir. That’s all.”

“Call it what you will,” he replied with a wave of his hand, dismissing the subject before he angered her again, “but, if you feel the need to apologize, I do have a request.”

Her brow furrowed in suspicion, “What?”

“Stop calling me ‘master’ and ‘sir.’ If I’m to help you and Onua drive ponies all the way back to Corus, we should call each other by our first names.”

Her eyes shone with a smile that didn’t reach her lips, “Thank you...Numair.”

Bowing his head, he began to say that he required no gratitude when the leather tie that held back his thick black curls fell away, unleashing the unruly tendrils. He cursed and turned to look for the useless thing.

Small boots appeared in his vision and he looked up to find Daine plucking the tie from the ground.

“You should wet it before you put it in your hair,” she said, “it shrinks as it dries and holds better.”

He took the tie with a grateful nod, “Spoken like someone of experience. Your hair gives you trouble too?”

“Goddess be good, my hair is so dratted thick that I don’t even bother with ties anymore,” there was a teasing note to her voice that turned into mirthfully raised eyebrows, “This is a strange conversation we’re having.”

He rolled his eyes and started pulling his hair back once more, “Please, men are just as vain as women. We only hide it better.”

“Really?”

“Really. You should see the lotions I put in my hair to make it behave,” Numair replied with a wink.

Daine was still shaking her head humorously when they returned to the camp.

When Daine sat down to return to her work, Onua looked to Numair with a raised eyebrow. He merely shrugged and moved past her to add a log to the fire.

He laid lazily beside the flames and started dozing. After a while, he heard hushed voices.

“We’re old friends,” Onua said quietly, “If he likes you, he’s the best of companions. Horse Lords help you if you get on his bad side, though.” There was a shift of fabric and the squeak of leather, “He is the most powerful mage in Tortall, after all.”

“Him?” Daine whispered scandalously.

Onua chuckled softly, “Yes, him.”

He opened one eye to see the look of disbelief on Daine’s face. If it were anyone else, he might have been offended but the expression was so endearing on her that he couldn’t help but smile. Closing his eye, he said, “I can hear you, you know.”

Onua spoke loudly for exaggeration’s sake, “He’s vain too! Takes just as long as a lady to get ready for court only to end up staining his fine clothes sitting in the grass watching the stars.”

Numair brought his hands underneath his head in a show of supinity, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. In fact, most people find that a rather endearing part of my character. You should tell her some of my true faults.” He turned his head and opened his eyes to grimace playfully at the horse mistress, “Then again, please don’t. I forgot that you have extensive knowledge of my flaws.”

Onua laughed but Daine just smirked down at the flames.

“Yeah, like the fact that you’re an eavesdropper,” teased Onua.

Numair chuckled, “Guilty as charged.”

This time even Daine chuckled softly.

 

Numair woke the next morning to find Onua and Daine more than ready to get on the road.

Onua’s concern for Numair came through in the leisurely pace they maintained but as the day wore on, he was grateful for it. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he knew it would be a long time before he’d fully recover from his confrontation with Sinthya’s mage. It was times like this that he was glad the gods had blessed him with such a long stride. Though it was mostly his curiosity that kept him distracted from the ache in his legs. Daine walked among the ponies as if she were one of them, patting one here and another there. She even huffed at a particularly impish gelding who was continually nipping at anyone who got too close. Yet one pony, in particular, was immune to Daine’s attention.

A shaggy, steel grey mare hadn’t been tied into the string with the others but shadowed Daine wherever she went. When Numair had inquired about the free-roaming pony, Onua had informed him that Cloud belonged to Daine and had been very vocal on the subject of being tied.

Intrigued, Numair looked at Cloud inquisitively only to have the pony turn one very perturbed eye on him. He had to shake his head to dislodge the idea that Cloud had been warning him.

Around midday, he caught Daine eyeing him with concern. Puffing out his chest, he thumped it in jest. “When The Lioness puts a heal on someone, they stay healed!”

She gave him a teasing frown, “Does your ma know you’re this silly?”

He nodded in mock remorse, “Yes. Unfortunately, the many grey hairs she has are my doing.”

“Sounds like you weren’t beat enough as a child,” grumbled Onua comically.

Numair gave an exaggerated sighed, “Probably.”

Daine, warming under the light of his humor, smiled but as soon as the expression came it disappeared. The girl looked down, as if ashamed to have found the situation funny.

Confused by the sudden change of expression, Numair decided that he had to make her smile again. In a stroke of genius, Numair began scooping rocks from the side of the road. Daine watched him warily, looking askance at Onua who just smiled and shook her head at his antics.

When he’d found six rounded stones, he began juggling them.

Daine watched in awe as he effortlessly kept the rocks aloft but he didn’t want admiration, he wanted her to laugh. A girl her age deserved to laugh.

Purposefully faltering, he allowed one of the stone to drop on his foot. It hadn’t honestly hurt but he cursed anyway, letting the rest of the rocks fall to the ground and comically hopping around gripping his toes.

His success came in the form of a laugh with the musical quality of birdsong.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said between attempts to get her merriment under control, “are you hurt?”

He grinned at her, letting his foot return to the ground, “To hear you laugh, I’d do it all over again. Broken toes be damned”

She bowed her head, hiding her expression from him, “You have to be the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to Corrus. I’m positively stoic compared to the royal court,” he replied.

“Now, don’t go telling tales, Numair,” said Onua, laughing as well, “You’re still twice as silly as the strangest soul in Corrus.”

Numair seemed to contemplate Onua’s words before resorting to a shrug, “You might be right but only because George is at Pirate’s Swoop this time of year.”

Daine looked up, “Alanna’s husband?”

“The same.”

For a moment Daine’s brow furrowed, then she stuck her nose into the air in mock indignation, “I don’t believe you. There’s no way a man who’s married to the king’s champion could be sillier than you.” When she looked back at Numair, she was grinning so widely he was afraid her face might split in two.

He matched her grin with one of his own, “Oh just you wait. You’ll see.”

“I will?” Daine asked, suddenly serious again.

“What? You thought you’d be left to wander?” he asked, once more matching her mood, “You saved Alanna’s life, Daine. The Lioness doesn’t take debts like that lightly and neither does her husband.”

“And what about you?” she asked quietly, “Will you disappear once we reach Corrus?”

In spite of the way her question wormed its way under his ribs, he forced himself to maintain his grin, “And deprive you of my utterly entertaining antics? Not a chance.”

 

That night, when they stopped to camp, Numair helped with the chores. He’d just finished setting out the cookware when he noticed Daine trying to start a pile of kindling with steel and flint. She seemed to be having a rather hard time with it as every time she managed to get a spark to light it would die before catching in any significant way.

Sitting across from her, he told her to back away. Her brow furrowed but she did as he said.

All he had to do was glance down at the tinder and it exploded into a roaring blaze. Surprised, Daine quickly fed the fire before it burned through all the kindling. Once she had provided the fire with sufficient fuel, she looked up at Numair in puzzlement.

“But you didn’t point or say a spell or nothing.”

Numair shrugged, “Some people need those things. I don’t.”

“Well excuse me,” she teased, “I forgot that I was speaking to the great Numair- juggling master of magic.”

He chuckled, “What? Did they have to enact fire-making rituals before anything would burn where you’re from?”

Her face darkened instantly. “No. Things back home burned just fine.”

Standing, Daine grabbed her bow and murmured something about finding dinner before disappearing into the trees. Numair watched her go, wishing he had the power to travel back in time and smack himself over the back of the head.

Something bumped him, nearly pushing him into the fire. Recovering, he found Daine’s pony, Cloud, was glaring at him- a very un-pony-like feat.

“Do that again and I’ll light your tail on fire,” he grumbled.

The pony was not deterred, headbutting him for the second time.

“It was going so well.” From her place by the tied ponies, Onua’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “She laughed.”

Numair looked back at the place where Daine had disappeared.

“Don’t worry. She’ll laugh again.” It was a promise.

 

The next day’s journey was far less relaxed than it had been. Onua moved at a faster pace while Daine stuck close to Cloud, whispering to the mare. The mare’s human-like sideways looks combined with Daine’s contemplative frowns were enough to ignite Numair’s curiosity and leave him wishing, not for the first time, that he could hear both sides of the conversation.

The sound of stampeding hooves came from behind them and Numair turned to see Alanna leading her unit at full gallop. When she pulled her stallion to a stop, Numair noticed that her face was stormy and red. Clumps of hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead and she panted heavily. Even her horse, Darkmoon, was stamping angrily in reaction to his master’s mood. As if drawn forward by the stallion’s unbridled energy, Daine reached out to calm the horse with soft strokes. Darkmoon reacted immediately, slowly relaxing under Daine’s care.

“He’s gone!” Alanna said the words like a curse, “From the looks of it, he fled the minute he knew you had escaped! Those dungeons were-”

“I know,” said Numair, shadows falling over his face.

“Curse him! The servants said that the lord and his mage were carried off on sedan chairs hoisted by stormwings! They’re probably halfway to Carthak by now!”

“Then our Lord Sinthya is in for a rude awakening,” Numair said coldly, “Gods know the Emperor Mage doesn’t take failure lightly. When he learns that Sinthya and his mage let me escape- well, let's say they’ll likely be dead by morning.”

Alanna grimaced, “Damned fool.”

Numair could only nod in agreeance. Even if he were far from happy with the traitorous lord, he wouldn’t wish the Emperor’s brand of punishment on his worst enemy.

With a sigh, The Lioness let her anger go and pinned Numair with knowing eyes. “You’d best follow quickly.”

Numair attempted to smile reassuringly but his black mood soured the expression, “We’re right behind you.”

Nodding, Alanna drew upon her reins and signaled to Daine. The girl stepped back so that Alanna could kick her horse into a gallop.

Once Alanna had disappeared, Daine turned to him and saw the shadows that enveloped him. Her eyes widened in concern. “Numair?”

He let out a long breath, releasing his frustration with it, “I’m fine, but we’d better get moving if we hope to reach the next village before sundown.”

Onua nodded and turned to lead them down the road.

If the tension had been thick before, it was utterly corporeal as they continued their journey. Numair must have made for a very frightening sight as neither Daine nor Onua would meet his gaze.

That night, Numair set the wards on the camp. Onua didn’t dare argue.

 

The next morning, Daine was already up and breaking down the camp before Numair and Onua managed to open their eyes. She moved like a whirlwind, retying the ponies’ lines and setting packs. She’d even put a tea kettle on the fire.

Numair sighed and got up, forgoing his morning tea in favor of rolling up his bedding. When she noticed him, Daine stopped her work to stare at him. He caught her gaze and saw what had Daine up so early- fear.

He wanted to curse. It was easy to forget that Daine was just a girl and susceptible to those imaginative nightmares that often plagued those her age. Stormwings alone sent shivers down his spine, add to that an emperor mage with a penchant for creatively killing those who displeased him and it was enough to make even the most steadfast nervous.

Unfortunately, Onua was not as forgiving of Daine’s internalization. The K’mir vividly cursed as she sat up in her bedroll. “Girl! What in the name of the goddess are you doing?”

Daine averted her eyes, setting and resetting a pack on Clouds back as if she were trying to achieve just the right position, “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d at least make myself useful.”

“The sun hasn’t even risen yet!” admonished the horse mistress.

Numair grabbed a cup and poured some tea from the waiting kettle to thrust under Onua’s nose. “Leave her alone. She’s right; we should be off as soon as possible. The new rider class needs their ponies.”

Onua glared at him but took the tea and began sipping it in silence.

Straightening, Numair turned to find Daine eyeing him gratefully. He bowed his head in acceptance then made himself useful, helping her break down the rest of the camp while Onua watched broodingly.

The sun was cresting the horizon by the time they started down the road, dipping the world in gold.

Daine walked between Numair and Cloud, occasionally murmuring to her pony. Numair tried not to eavesdrop but then Daine giggled, and he couldn’t stifle his interest any longer.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his head cocked as if another perspective would help answer his question.

Waving absently, Daine continued to giggle at her mare, “Oh, nothing.”

He glowered comically, “For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

“Really,” said Daine, “you don’t want to know.”

“Cloud said something funny about me, didn’t she?”

As if his question had been a bolt of lightning, Daine stopped in her tracks. He paused as well, turning back toward her with a raised eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”

“You know I can talk to her?” Daine asked, her voice dropping as if she was telling some great secret.

He chuckled, “It wasn’t a difficult deduction to make.”

Daine looked at her feet, “Most people think I’m mad.”

He reached over and tweaked her nose, “Oh, you’re definitely mad but not because you talk to ponies. You’d have to be utterly insane to befriend a morning grouch like Onua.”

“I heard that!” Onua yelled over her shoulder.

Numair grinned knowingly and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “Don’t worry though, compared to me you look perfectly sane.”

Daine laughed and Numair swore he’d die from the sound. He'd never heard anything so warm and full of life.

From behind her master, Cloud caught Numair’s gaze. With a slight bow of her head, she thanked him for keeping his promise.


	4. Welcome to Corrus

Four days later, at the base of the final hill, Numair found himself watching Daine out of the corner of his eye in anticipation of her reaction. He wasn’t disappointed when the girl stopped in her tracks at the sight of a sprawling valley cut by a winding river. Hugging the river was a walled city centered by a white domed building and four tall towers.

“Welcome to Corus,” Numair said, “Home to the most unusual royal couple in history.”

Onua chuckled, “I don’t think ‘unusual’ is the right word.”

“Quite right, more tactful scholars use the word ‘progressive.’”

“Do you live there? At the palace?” Daine asked him.

He shook his head, “I live on the coast, but they keep rooms for me there.”

“We should press on,” said Onua, “the new rider class started almost two weeks ago, so we need to get these ponies settled in.”

Numair nodded, “True enough.”

They followed the road down toward the city’s main gate. A guard dressed in purple and gold recognized Numair and opened the gate, unleashing the chaos of industry upon the trio.

Blacksmiths molded steel with hammer and anvil while baker’s ovens filled the air with the aroma of warm wheat. Onua and Numair knew the city well, but Daine took in all the sights and smells as if each one were workings of the highest magics. Spurred by her fascination, Numair provided the young girl with pieces of useless trivia about each stall they passed. Daine ate up every bit of information like she was starved for it. 

Watching Daine made Numair see the city a whole new light. Instead of being mundane noise, the sounds of artisans at work became music, and the haggling of traders became lyrics. In fact, he was enjoying himself so much that he almost missed the turn off toward the palace.

“This is my stop, I’m afraid,” he said sadly, “I have to go make my report to the king.”

Daine’s head bowed, trying to hide the disappointment Numair had glimpsed in her eyes. To set her at ease, he squeezed her shoulder softly.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” he promised.

She nodded but still refused to look at him. 

Onua elbowed Daine softly, a mocking note to her voice as she stage-whispered, “He just can’t wait to lay hands on his books again.”

Numair forced a chuckle, “You know me too well, my friend.”

Laughing, Onua shooed him toward the palace. “Well then, go on, you silly man. Your loves await.”

Forcing himself to step away, he began walking backward toward the palace as he waved. “Take care of yourselves. Don’t let Daine work you too hard, Onua.”

His joke earned him a small smile from the girl before he buried his hands in his pockets and turned toward the palace.

He’d barely gotten through the door before Alanna found him.

“We need to talk,” said The Lioness, waving for the tall mage to fall into step beside her. It should have been an impossibility considering their differences in height, but they managed to keep pace with one another easily.

“You were right about Sinthya,” she said angrily, “The Emperor had his eyes put out with a hot poker. Last we heard he was still in the dungeons beneath the palace, but rumor has it that won’t last long. Ozorne personally sent the king a letter apologizing for his inability to extradite the man in one piece.”

Numair grimaced, “Damned fool. He not only assured himself a most painful end but also made sure that the Emperor wouldn’t be held accountable for the experiments.”

“I don’t understand,” said Alanna quietly, “Those drugs, all the dead and tortured, what could they hope to accomplish?”

“I don’t know what Sinthya hoped to gain but his mage-”

“Halzeem Crizarn.”

Numair sighed, “I knew he looked familiar.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. Last I heard, he was working with that ruby-eyed bastard from Scanra.”

“Inar Hadensra.” Just speaking the name brought a sour look to Alanna’s face. “That’s not good.”

“That is an understatement,” replied Numair, “If Inar is working with Carthak we’d better pray the Emperor doesn’t decide on war.”

From around the corner came a large dark-skinned man who interrupted the dark conversation with his trademark smile. The man, know to his friends as Sarge, was first known to Numair as Musenda- the gladiator who’d once save his life. As soon as Sarge laid eyes on the tall mage, he came to clap him on the shoulder.

“Numair! It’s good to see you in one piece.”

“He’s lucky to be,” grumbled Alanna.

Sarge’s suspicious gold eyes looked out of place above his friendly grin, “What happened?”

Numair waved away the man’s concern, “Just ran into some trouble while investigating Sinthya.”

Alanna scoffed, “‘Trouble,’ he says. As if he didn’t almost die.”

Numair rolled his eyes, “And they say I’m dramatic.”

“I know it’s not easy for you, but you should try to stay out of ‘trouble.’ Your friends hate to see you hurt.” Sarge squeezed Numair’s shoulder gently, transporting him back to those days of his youth when Sarge had been twice his size.

“You’re right,” Numair admitted. Contrite, he offered Alanna a silent apology. 

She playfully punched him in the arm in acceptance. “We shouldn’t keep the king waiting.”

Sarge nodded, “Yes. I heard Onua has returned which means I, too, better get moving.” He gave Numair a fatherly smile before stepping aside to wave the mage and Alanna toward the King’s offices.

When they entered, Jonathan looked up from his papers with a genuine smile.

“Your majesty,” said Numair, offering the ruler a deep bow, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m just glad you made it back whole,” replied Jonathan, waving Numair toward a seat. The mage sat gladly, his legs feeling the week-long drive he’d shared with Daine and Onua.

Yet, the moment he was seated the entire atmosphere of the room changed. Gone were the friendly exchanges, replaced with the tension of state affairs.

“I’m sure Alanna told you of Sinthya’s fate?”

Numair frowned, “Yes. A grisly affair, though, I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I, nor was I surprised by Ozorne’s letter. He is very good at maintaining his peaceful facade, even while he sends state-sponsored raiders, pirates, and monsters to our shores.” 

Numair raised an eyebrow at the heat in the king’s voice. 

Jonathan bowed his head, “The fourth rider group was decimated three days ago just short of the Scanran border. All the scouts found were scattered body parts, but they seemed to think it had been done by a very large animal.”

“By the goddess,” whispered Alanna.

“We know that the Emperor has some way to control these immortals, but we don’t know when or where they’ll attack,” Jonathan continued, his returning anger mingling with the mourning in his voice to create a tone of impotent frustration, “In fact, with the immortals on his side, the only thing stopping Ozorne from committing to a full-scale invasion is that he knows how powerful the dominion jewel can be.”

“True. It’s impossible to win a war when the land itself rises against you,” said Numair, his own voice becoming dark, “Which is why I wonder what the Emperor hoped to gain from Sinthya. Ozorne isn’t one to be deterred once he sets his eye on something.”

Alanna and Jonathan passed each other worried looks.

“We need some way to track these immortals. To know before they attack so that we won’t be caught off guard.”

Sighing, Numair nodded, “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise I’ll find anything, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

 

Numair was in his rooms at the palace going over every scrap of information he could find on immortals, but after he reread the same passage on stormwings for what seemed like the hundredth time, he pushed himself back from the desk and cursed. It was useless! How was he supposed to find a way to detect the creatures when he couldn’t even figure out how they were passing the barrier between the realms?

Frustrated, he stood and stalked toward the window that overlooked the field where those ponies not chosen by rider trainees were allowed to graze. The sky was just starting to turn a lavender hue as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon. 

He’d been up all night.

It was foolish of him to forgo sleep in favor of study as he was still semi-recovering from his time in Sinthya’s dungeon and was likely to exhaust himself to the point of madness if he didn’t rest.

He’d been about to go to bed when something invisible slammed into his chest. He gasped as the sensation robbed him of air and sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. On instinct, he blinked forth his magical sight. 

A thread of copper wrapped around his torso and when he followed the wild magic’s path he found Daine sprinting across the field. She was yelling something he couldn’t make out to someone in the rider’s barracks.

Stormwings ascend from the treeline, the first rays of morning light glistening on their metallic wings and shadowing their hungry eyes.

Daine’s power shot out in a hundred different directions, calling all matter of animals to her defense. Ponies, dogs, and birds answered, forming a protective barrier around the girl.

As if entranced by her outpouring of magic, Numair sprinted from his room and down the palace halls so fast he wasn’t sure that all of his organs came with him. In fact, he barely even registered passing King Jonathan and Lady Alanna on his way out the door. His mind was consumed with one thought and one thought only. He had to get to Daine.

Once he was breathing open air, he quickly took in the scene. The Stormwings had descended on Daine but the animals were keeping the monsters at bay, fighting back silver claws and steel wings with hooves and teeth, but it wasn’t enough. One of the Stormwings broke through the ranks to dive at Daine. Numair’s gift acted of its own volition, flying across the field to seep into the mouth of the Stormwing who dared to try and attack the girl. The creature spiraled, his flight broken as he choked on the magic. Then he exploded, raining black blood and metal feathers onto the grass near Daine’s feet. 

Yet, the destruction didn’t end with that one stormwing. Once unleashed, his gift could no longer be stopped. It tore through enemy after enemy until Numair lost track of the havoc he was causing.

It was only when his gift touched a crimson shield that Numair had the wherewithal to take in his surroundings. With most of her warriors dead, the stormwing queen was retreating back into the sky.

Numair would have watched them leave but he suddenly felt as if his heart was being torn from his chest. Following the feeling, he found Daine falling to her hands and knees. 

It took his racing mind a moment to realize that she was trembling and panting but otherwise unharmed. 

When he did, his own exhaustion overtook him. Numair slouched against a nearby tree, barely able to keep upright on legs that felt boneless.

“I said I’d see you again,” he joked, defaulting to humor in the wake of his waning adrenaline rush and the cascade of thoughts that came with it.

“You timed it perfect,” she replied after a strengthening breath. Pushing herself up into a kneeling position, she managed to grin at him in a way that was half-gratitude and half a mask.

Cloud trotted over to nose at Daine. The girl sighed and stroked the mare’s neck. “I’m alright.” 

Unconvinced, Cloud kept nosing her master until Daine got to her feet. Even then, she had to lean heavily on the pony to stay upright. 

Looking at him once more, Daine frowned and a moment later a grey gelding came up to nose him. Numair gladly accepted the pony’s silent offer of support.

Men from the stables and kennels had come to collect their escaped charges. Numair could only chuckle at the shock on the caretakers’ faces as the dogs and horses ignored all others to follow Daine to the fence line. Only then would they return to where they belonged.

“You must have caused quite a stir,” Numair joked, “the nobles will likely complain that you got them out of bed.”

Daine turned wide eyes on him. “Will I get in trouble?”

Sarge, who had come to meet them, laughed his great booming laugh. 

“Let them complain. It’s good for them to be up in time for breakfast,” he told Daine, his expression softening as he offered her his arm, “Come, my lamb, you look like you could use some rest. You’ve definitely earned it.”

“Same goes for you,” said Alanna, having arrived beside Numair without his knowledge. “Come, I’ll get you to bed.”

Alanna half-carried him back to the palace, the hidden strength of her small frame easily keeping him from pitching forward as he constantly tripped over his heavy feet.

Once they had entered Numair’s rooms, Alanna brushed a precarious pile of books to the floor and deposited the tall mage into the overstuffed leather upholstery of his favorite reading chair.

Taking a seat in a small clearing atop his tall work table, Alanna watched her feet dangle above the floor, the short locks of her red hair obscuring her expression. 

Silence, tense and thoughtful, made the air feel thick in Numair’s tired lungs.

“Say what you need to say, Alanna, so I can get some sleep.”

“If it were that simple, I would have said it already,” she said, her voice hot but with an undercurrent of concern.

“Why don’t you start with the reason you won’t look at me?”

Alanna’s swinging feet stilled. After what seemed like hours she whispered, “You don’t look like you right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her head shot up and Numair saw the one emotion he had never thought to see from the Lioness. She was afraid, but not so much so that she was unable to jump down from the table to take his hand.

Lavender magic surrounded their joined hands and suddenly Numair could see the cloud of shadowy magic around him. Usually, the shadow would sparkle, like a night sky, but the white lights had been extinguished by veins of molten copper that made his gift look like a cooling lava flow.

Alanna took his other hand and held it up for his inspection. His swarthy skin had gone grey in her healer’s sight.

“Your body is exhausted but your magic is- well, I don’t know what to call it."

Her incomplete description stabbed at him when combined with the shocking sight of what his magic had done to him but rather than acknowledge it directly, he fell into that distant stoicism of academia that served as his escape. Seeing the thoughtful darkness in his eyes, Alanna let go of his hand and broke the connection between them. She looked down again, her voice growing soft, “What happened?”

“I hardly know myself. I mean, I can theorize but I have no substantial evidence.” Alanna didn’t respond when he paused, blindly examining the cobbled stone of the floor as she waited for his explanation. “I suppose it has to do with my own gift’s tendency to drawn from the natural world, and her wild magic is more powerful than any other I’ve encountered. Even the well of it that Jon possesses as the Voice of the Tribes has nothing on her ability. 

“I noticed while we were traveling that my gift had a tendency to seek hers out but tonight was different. When she called all those animals to her I felt it as well which makes me think the connection is binary. It’s not completely unheard of in the realm of compatible magics so I wonder-”

“Numair,” Alanna said, cutting him off at the point when he would have become lost in the relative safety of impartial hypothesis, “You weren’t just drawing from her magic, you were possessed by it. You have to find some way to control it because if you-”

The unfinished sentence was filled with meaning that brought forth those cascading thoughts that always seemed to be waiting in the wings to descend on him like a flock of angry crows. He was dangerous and, no matter how many times his friends expressed their trust, he always would be a cause for wariness.

It was a harsh truth that he couldn’t ignore, “The only way I can think to stop it, short of warding myself to the point of ridiculousness, is to teach her to control her power so that she isn’t reaching out blindly whenever she’s in danger.”

Alanna nodded, her shoulders straightening at the relief of having a solution, “I’ll tell Jonathan.”

“I’m assuming he was concerned as well?” Numair murmured.

Wide amethyst eyes fell on him, almost accusatory in their heat, “Of course he was. Using that much power could be deadly.”

His head fell, “I know.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, you dolt, before you keel over.”

Numair watched her leave, his heart beating painfully against his ribs. 

 

Sleep did not prove restful as his dream brought him to the banks of the Zekoi. The broad river flowed past him, pulling all matter of objects downstream.

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as all that,” said the Graveyard Hag, who was standing to his left. She leaned heavily on her walking stick, looking out at the river as if it had disappointed her. “You’ve never been a pessimist and now’s hardly the time to start.”

“Why do I always feel like I’m entering these conversations in the middle?” he asked, the tone of genuine curiosity belied by his scowl.

The goddess glared at him, “Watch yourself, boy. You’re the one who called me here.”

“Believe me, if I had the ability to call you it wouldn’t be while I’m trying to sleep.”

The Graveyard Hag passed him a sly smile, “And yet here I am, listening to you whine about how that girl is far more powerful than you thought. I would’ve bet my walking stick that it’d take more than a brush with her magic to make you turn tail and run.”

“I’m not running,” he replied firmly, “but that was hardly what I would call a ‘brush’. She needs to learn to control it.”

The Graveyard Hag shrugged, “Personally, I think it’s far more fun when she’s allowed to run wild.”

“That much untamed power could kill a lot of people, including her,” he said, the octave of his voice dropping to dark levels. 

The goddess sighed, “You make a good point. How about this? We’ll roll for it.”

“Roll for what?”

With a smile and a wave of her hand, the hag produced an ivory cup. She shook it, and the tapping sound of dice met his ears. “For knowledge, dearie.”

Numair couldn’t put voice to his misgivings before the hag upended her cup over the ground. Two black dice with blood-red markings landed in the mud with a plop. A three and a four faced up at them.

The hag hissed in defeat, “Curses! You win!”

“You wanted me to win,” he accused.

The goddess threw her head back and cackled, the raspy sound following Numair back into dreamless sleep.


	5. Questions

Numair was sure he’d slept for a week when a soft knock sounded on the door.

Stretching, he rose and opened the door to find a young page standing at the threshold.

“Excuse me Master Numair,” said the boy with an awkward bow, “but his royal majesty has requested that you join him at the rider’s training hall.”

Numair gave the boy a small smile, “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yessir.” The page bowed again and began to jog back down the hall.

Sniffing at his shirt, Numair grimaced. He hadn’t even changed his clothes before falling into bed. His conversation with Alanna had put hygiene at the bottom of his list of cares. Now he was regretting his lapse as it meant keeping the king waiting. There was no way he was leaving his room smelling the way he did.

 

Having washed and put on fresh clothes, Numair went to the rider’s barracks and was led by one of the trainees to a room just off the dining hall. He opened the indicated door to find Jonathan sitting beside a small table eating a cake. Across from him sat Daine, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Numair frowned at the king. What could he and Daine have been talking about that would make the girl seem so nervous?

Jonathan pointedly ignored Numair’s questioning look, dramatically savoring the cake he bit into. In an attempt to put Daine at ease, Numair reached across the table and plucked a cake from the tray in front of her, subtly letting her know he could be counted as an ally. She watched him blankly as he took the pastry and sat in an empty chair.

Damn his vanity. He should have been there, sweat-stained clothes and all. Appearing like a beggar would have been preferable to seeing Daine look so isolated.

Once he had finished his cake, the king began to list the various sightings of immortals both in Tortall and abroad. They were reports Numair had heard dozens of times already; winged horses in Saraine, griffins in the Copper Isles, spidrens in the hills, and now stormwings absconding with the Lord Synthia. When he’d reached the end of the list, Jonathan began drumming his fingers on the table. “The only common thread in all this is Carthak.”

“Carthak is another country?” Daine asked hesitantly.

“Across the sea,” Numair explained automatically, “Their crops have failed two years in a row due to a lack of rain and an abundance of isolated tornadoes that ripped up their fields. Food shortages have gotten so bad that there were riots in the capital this last winter. That means the Emperor needs good farmland and Tortall is the closest target.”

The king turned dark eyes on Numair before looking back at Daine with softness. If it had been anyone but Jonathan, the easy shift of moods would have seemed suspicious. “I think the Emperor found the spells used to banish the immortals to the divine realm and has summoned immortals to attack Tortall. Which is why I must know,” The king leaned forward, taking Daine’s hands in his own. “How did you know those stormwings were coming?”

Daine turned her head, blushing slightly, “I don’t know.”

“Did the animals tell you?” asked Numair, his voice leading.

Daine shook her head, “Not really. I woke up because I felt something wrong.”

“Wrong?” asked the king gently, following Numair’s example.

She nodded, “Something bad but in a gold kind of way.”

“Gold?” asked Numair, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes. Sometimes I think of my friends in colors. Horses are yellow-brown, like wheat, but Cloud is brighter, like afternoon sun.”

“Magical auras.” Daine’s wide eyes found Numair, and he realized he’d spoken aloud.

“It’s not magic!” she all but yelled at him, “Didn’t ma test me enough? Don’t you think I’d’ve grabbed at any magic to please her?”

“Be easy, little one,” said the king, his voice soft as he brushed his thumb across Daine’s knuckles in a soothing motion, “I’m sure our friend here meant no offense. After all, he must know as well as I do that no amount of magical gift could make your mother love you more.”

Tears welled in Daine’s eyes in spite of the stubborn set of her chin, “You don’t know that.”

Jonathan smiled the easy smile that proved him as more than just a ruler but a kind-hearted human being. “Actually I do, I can see it in your eyes. Somewhere, deep down, you know she just wanted you to be happy.”

Numair lowered his voice to a gentle tone, hating himself for upsetting her when she was already overwhelmed. “It’s possible your mother didn’t recognize your magic. Few people know wild magic exists, but it can be just as powerful as any gift.”

She looked down at her hands, still being held by the king. 

“I don’t have magic. Just a way with animals.” Her words were a denial but her voice was hesitant, tinted with a hope she didn’t want to admit to.

“No, it’s magic,” replied Numair, his tone soft and beckoning.

“How do you know?”

“I can see it.”

She furrowed her brow, “I don’t understand.”

“You’d best show her,” said the king, letting go of Daine’s hands to lean back into his chair.

“Show me what?”

Numair sighed, “There is a spell that would allow me to show you your magic but it requires we be connected, mind to mind and I’m not sure-”

“Do it.”

He searched her face for any sign of doubt and came up empty, “Are you sure? It could be quite unnerving.”

She nodded vehemently, “Please. Show me.”

Numair couldn’t fathom the plea in her eyes. The desperation. Without breaking eye contact with her, he nodded his agreement. Her dropping gaze and deep sigh of relief were Numair’s undoing, his body moving of its own volition until he was standing behind her chair.

“Just relax. Empty your mind.”

She did as he said, the tension slowly draining from her body. He placed his index and middle fingers on her temples, the contact alone making his gift pool at his fingertips. Closing his own eyes, he enacted the spell.

“Open your eyes,” he told her softly after the spell was complete, letting his hands fall away from her. She did and gaped. 

Looking down at herself, she followed the copper light from its source out to her arms and then to her hands. She stared at her appendages as if they were alien, turning them this way and that before wiggling her fingers experimentally. Then she looked past her light and toward the king.

“You look like a storm cloud lit by lightning,” she said in awe.

Jonathan chuckled.

Daine turned to Numair so quickly he thought she might have hurt herself. Her eyes somehow got more extensive, “You look like a snowbank in the moonlight! Shadowy but somehow still glowing. It’s amazing!”

He found himself smiling at her descriptions, “You’re seeing our magical auras, our gifts.”

Turning back, she looked down at herself once more, “Hobs bobs,” she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the shifting fire of her gift.

“Now do you see, Daine?” asked the king, “With your magic, your wild magic, you could save hundreds.”

Daine looked at the king in horror, “No, not me! I can’t!”

Numair placed a hand on her shoulder, offering support while simultaneously breaking the spell that connected them. Daine only blinked as her vision changed, her body frozen in place by the enormous responsibility the king wished to place on her.

“I think you can,” said the king, his voice kind, “you can sense the immortals coming, giving the people time to prepare so that they aren’t caught off guard. Please, Daine, I hate to ask this, but we need your help.”

Daine looked at the floor for a long time. Eventually, she whispered, “Alright, I’ll help if I can.”

“Thank you,” said the king, taking her hands and squeezing them one final time before looking up at Numair, “You will teach her?”

Numair bowed his head in agreement despite the mixed emotions that had his heart racing and his palms growing clammy. His curiosity had him excited at the idea of learning everything there was to know about this girl’s unique wild magic but how was he supposed to teach her when being near her was like putting kerosene next to a blazing fire?

“Oh, wait!” Daine said suddenly, “I signed on with Onua for the summer. I can’t leave her without help. It’s not right.”

Numair waved away the girl’s concern, “That’s not a problem. The summer training camp is in Pirate’s Swoop and I live near there. I could just go with you.”

The king sighed heavily, “You two really should remain here.”

“Come now, Jon, there isn’t anything we can do here that you don’t already have a hundred other mages doing.”

The king smiled, “You’re just saying that so I’ll let you go. Gods know this is probably just some elaborate scheme to get away from the palace.”

Numair passed Jonathan a bored frown, “You give me far too much credit.”

“Fine, just keep me posted, alright?”

Numair bowed his head gracefully, “As you wish, your majesty.”

Jonathan stood and gave Numair a comical grimace, “Well, I’d best be going. I have to dance with the Carthaki ambassador’s wife.”

“Wear iron shoes,” joked Numair, defaulting to that ever-present need to resort to humor in the face of adversity. 

The king chuckled and looked down at Daine. In an instant, his gaze softened, “Thank you again, Daine.”

Daine nodded shyly, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more, y’know- with my da and all.”

The king smiled at her sadly, “I am sorry I had to ask.”

“It’s alright.” Daine attempted a reassuring smile that looked wrong under her sorrowful eyes. Always the gentlemen, the king acknowledged her forgiveness graciously before he turned and left.

When the door had closed behind the king, Numair looked down at Daine. “He asked about your father?” Somehow his imagination had expected far worse questions yet, from the look in Daine’s eyes, that was the worst possible thing Jonathan could have asked her.

She nodded slowly, refusing to look him in the eye, “I think he was a little disappointed when I told him I don’t know who he is.”

“Why don’t you know?”

Daine shrugged, “Ma just never told me. She always said she’d tell me later but then-” Daine cut off before she spoke the words “she died” and made them more real than they already were. 

Wanting to distract her from the obvious pain, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said, “Well, why don’t we get started? You’ve got a lot to learn after all.”

“Now?” Daine asked.

“No time like the present. Or, at least, that was what my teachers used to tell me.”

“You had teachers?”

He smiled at her, “Why does that surprise you? I didn’t just wake up one morning with the knowledge of how to use my gift. I had to train for many years at a university to become the sorcerer I am today.”

“Like that one the king talked about?”

Numair stifled a grimace, “The one and the same.”

Daine seemed to consider her next words carefully before she ultimately asked, “Will you tell me about it sometime?”

He had to force himself to keep breathing as memories cascaded over him like cold water. His friends in Tortall might fear his power but at least they wouldn’t try to control it. 

“Perhaps, someday,” he murmured before clearing his throat and fluttering his hands in an attempt to banish the memories that threatened to overwhelm him, “For now, we should start by testing your abilities. Fetch Cloud, please, I’ll meet you at the stables.”

She nodded and moved to the door but she stopped with her hand on the knob.

“Numair?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to do anything else with my magic? You know, other than talk to animals?”

He shrugged, “It’s hard to tell. Why? Was there something specific you’d like to learn?”

Daine took a long time to answer, “My ma, she always wanted me to be a healer- like her.”

It had come full circle. In the end, Daine was still just a girl who wished to earn her mother’s approval, even from the Black God’s realm.

Numair spoke honestly, remembering his own time under the Daine’s care, “I doubt your magic could be used to heal people but I’m sure it could be used to heal animals.”

She turned to him, her face lighting with a grin that shook the earth beneath him.

“Really?” she asked earnestly.

“Yes.”

The ghosts that were buried deep within her smokey eyes, those who seemed to remain no matter her mood, dissipated. For the first time since Numair had met her, she looked truly happy.


	6. Lessons

Numair was leaning languidly against the stable’s outside wall when Daine walked up, Cloud trailing behind her. The mare looked at Numair skeptically before huffing slightly at her master.

“Enough,” she chided the pony, “be nice.”

Numair purposely ignored the glower Cloud pointed at him and spoke directly to Daine.

“If you’d ask Cloud to come with me, I’d like to test your range.”

“My range?” asked Daine.

“Yes. I have observed that when you speak to animals, you are doing so with your mind. I’d like to see how far away you can be before Cloud can’t hear you anymore.”

“But how will you know?”

Numair eyed the pony warily, “I’m sure she’ll tell me. You just have to keep talking to her until she can no longer hear you.”

As if reading Numair’s mind, Daine turned to the pony and gave her a look that would make any strict mother envious. “No biting or kicking.”

Cloud snorted and turned to trot down the fence line.

“I think you’re to follow her,” said Daine with exasperation.

Numair cursed comically and jogged after the pony.

“Only one of us can lead here, and that has to be me!” he called after Cloud.

The mare whinnied in a sort of scoff before slowing and waiting for him to catch up. Once he reached the pony, he looked back to find Daine climbing the fence to sit on the top rail. As usual, the other ponies in the field trotted up to keep her company.

He turned to Cloud who was watching him sternly with one of her large brown eyes.

“You don’t seem to like me very much, do you?” he asked the pony, fully knowing he didn’t have Daine’s ability to hear Cloud’s reply. The pony shook her head though it seemed more like she was shaking out her mane than signifying in the negative.

“I don't see why. I’ve never done anything to you.”

The pony snorted softly.

“I know, I know, but showing her was for her own good. Or would you rather she get hurt because she lost control?” The pony only glared at him.

Sighing, he bowed his head in defeat, “Fine, if we can’t be friends can we at least agree to act civilly? For Daine’s sake?”

The pony continued to glare at him but ultimately fell into step, letting him take the lead.

They had walked for some time in tense silence before Cloud suddenly stopped, ears pricked forward.

Alarmed, Numair asked the pony what was wrong. She neighed softly before spinning and breaking into a full gallop back toward where they had left Daine. Numair didn’t need wild magic to know Cloud thought Daine was in trouble. He sprinted behind the pony, eyes searching the horizon with every footfall until Daine finally came into view. He was panting when he finally reached the fence.

She seemed unharmed, surrounded by the ponies in the field and staring off into the trees. Cloud leaped over the fence and went to nose Daine. The girl let the pony check over her, not paying attention to Cloud’s ministrations but still staring at something in the distance. There was a strange look in her eyes, a fear so deeply rooted that it had marked her very soul.  
Cloud gently nudged Daine’s cheek. Suddenly realizing that the pony was worried, Daine turned and nuzzled her mane.

“I’m alright,” he heard her say, “I just forgot for a moment. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

His tongue burned with questions, but he quickly bit down on it before he let his curiosity get the better of him. Daine looked so shaken, the last thing she needed was an interrogation.

As if just realizing he was there, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Sorry, I just-” her voice broke before she could finish her sentence.

Working to appear nonchalant, he waved away her attempted apology, “Don’t be. You’re probably just exhausted after this morning. Sometimes I forget that not everyone shares my academic enthusiasm.”

She took the out he provided, nodding and saying “It’s been a long day.”

He offered her a reassuring smile that she tried, and failed, to return. Bowing her head, she seemed to be contemplating something. She opened her mouth as if to speak and-

“Evening, sir and miss.” The interrupting voice startled them both, their heads swiveling in the direction of the sound. A man, large and bulking ducked through the fence with a crossbow cradled in his arm. Two dogs followed on his heels. “I ‘eard the wolves ahowlin’ and worried da ponies’d be in danger. Glad to see ya two were keepin’ them.”

Daine knelt as the dogs bounded over to greet her. She petted each of them gently, murmuring to them under her breath. Their master came to a stop next to Numair, his gaze on the distant treeline. “It’s awful strange to ‘ear wolves ‘round here. The packs of the forest usually keep their distance seein’ as we have dogs about.”

“Are you going to hunt them?” asked Daine softly.

“Don’tcha worry yer head, miss,” replied the man, his voice going sweet at the alarmed look on Daine’s face. “I’ll post up here and deter those wolves. Dey won’t ‘urt deez ponies.”

Daine looked toward the treeline. Her lips barely moved as she whispered something under her breath. Cloud huffed, nosing her master toward the fence. Daine touched the pony’s cheek and nodded.

Cloud caught Numair’s gaze, eyeing him with a look that could only be a command. He understood clearly and was more than ready to follow.

“Come, Daine. I’ll escort you back.”

The girl nodded but wouldn’t look at him the entire walk to her small room near the stables. She politely bid him goodnight before closing the door.

Standing in the soft light of the stable lamps he had a distinct feeling that, had the shepherd not appeared, Daine would have confessed the reason behind the fear in her eyes. Instead, he felt like he was starting back on square one.

 

Numair woke around lunchtime the next day, still feeling rather tired. Though he’d slept, his subconscious had been hard at work formulating all sorts of imaginative scenarios, most based on his imprisonment and death at the Emperor’s hand but there were new images among those selfish fears. Images of Daine, Alanna, and Sarge being forced to battle in the gladiatorial arena while the Emperor smiled down at them. Seeing the girl defended from two of his best friends by a whirlwind of birds was an image that he knew would stick with him for a while.

Letting go of his fears with a bone-deep exhale, he told himself that if he kept allowing his imagination run wild, he’d drive himself insane. He needed a distraction.

Getting up, he dressed and tied back his hair before scanning his shelves for a suitable book. Skimming his long fingers across the spines, he froze as he came across a volume that did not belong among his collection.

It was a thin book, bound in soft brown leather but with no distinguishing marks branded into it. Plucking it down from the shelf, he opened the cover to find a title page that made his blood run cold.

Wild Magic: A Complete Guide  
By Master Arram Draper  
Chief Mage of Tortall

Hesitantly, he flipped through it.

Page after page he saw passages on training those gifted with wild magic, complete with pictures and helpful spells. At first, he didn’t see the harm in reading the book, but then the pages fell open to reveal an ink drawing of Daine standing next to Cloud. Or, at least, a version of Daine. The artist had perfectly captured the details that made Daine who she was, from her intelligent eyes to her stubborn chin but in the picture she was older and had an air of confidence that spoke of wisdom beyond her years. Yet, more than that, the shadows that haunted the Daine he knew now still loomed over her fully grown counterpart.

He quickly snapped the book shut and put it back on the shelf. Knowledge like this always came with a price, and he didn’t need to know the cost to know he was not willing to pay it.

Deciding on fresh air over books for the first time in his life, he headed toward the Rider’s barracks to find Daine.

On his way out he crossed paths with Alanna who seemed in much better spirits than she had been since the night before. It was likely their impending journey to Pirate’s Swoop, the home she shared with her husband, that put the extra-wide grin on her face.

“Look who it is!” she said instead of a traditional greeting, but as soon as he came within proximity of her, her expression changed to one of mischievous curiosity. She waved him into an unused room where a small bed, table, and chairs sat awaiting a palace visitor.

“I hear you convinced the king to allow you to join us on our trek to the coast,” she began, her voice far too pleasant for comfort.

“Yes,” said Numair slowly, sensing a trap.

“So that you could teach Daine to control her ability,” The Lioness continued, her face darkening fractionally with every word.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. Alanna pretended not to notice his wary look.

“All so the girl can become a glorified immortal-detector.” And now they had come to the crux of the conversation. She stabbed a finger into his chest, her temper running away with her. “She’s a girl, Numair. She deserves far better than to be pulled into our battles, so if you think I’ll just stand by while you and Jonathan-”

The shadows that fell over him stopped her. “Alanna, I thought you knew me better than to think I would allow Daine to be used that way.”

Though Alanna’s temper cooled, she refused to look at him. “I know how you get about Ozorne. You hate him and hate makes people do things they normally wouldn’t.”

Now it was Numair who was averting his gaze as his entire demeanor changed, going cold as he closed himself off from those parts that remembered what it was like to have the Emperor as a friend. “I don’t hate him. I pity him.” Finally, he looked up to capture Alanna’s gaze, “I saw, first hand, what happens to people when they are treated like pawns in some great game. I would never see that happen to Daine.”

The words tasted like they were made of acid, meant to burn his affirmation into the memory of anyone close enough to hear. Alanna was undoubtedly affected by them, her shoulders drooping under their weight.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a very tense moment, “I just look at that girl and think of Aly. She is far too brave for her own good.”

The mention of Alanna’s now four-year-old daughter softened Numair considerably. “On that, we can agree. About both of them.”

That pulled a smile from Alanna, “I am glad you’re coming with us.” She began fiddling with the gem at her throat, a large ruby that warned her of danger, “I don’t know why but I just feel a lot better knowing you’ll be around to keep us out of trouble.”

He tried to return her smile, “Are you joking? I’m a magnet for trouble.”

“True,” replied an Alanna with a chuckle, “but you’re also the luckiest person I’ve ever met.”

She turned to open the door she had closed to keep her ambush from prying ears, “You’re free to go, Master Salmalin. I truly am sorry that I doubted you.”

Numair waved away her apology. He could never stay mad at The Lioness for long. “Think nothing of it. I know how fiercely protective you can be.”

She chuckled as she followed him out the door, “As far as understatements go, that one is just grand.”

He chuckled too, the heavy feeling in his heart slowly dissipating with the sound.

 

Arriving at the training grounds, he was awestruck by the new version of Daine he found there. Gone was the slightly shy girl with her guarded thoughts, replaced with a fierce creature that dodged hooves placed by unsure riders.

“Trainee! You there!”

Numair held his breath as she leaped into the path of a galloping pony, holding her arms out at her sides. The trainee, an unsure boy with sandy brown hair, pulled up just short of trampling her.

“Trainee! Your mare has picked up a stone! Get off and fix it before she gets hurt!” Daine bellowed, a fiery promise behind her words.

The trainee obeyed, his eyes wide with fear of reprisal.

Once Numair’s lungs began to function again, he found himself shaking his head in a half-chiding, half-amused way. Alanna had been right in her assessment. Daine was far too brave for her own good but, unlike Aly, it wasn’t foolish bravery. It was purely concern that made Daine place herself in peril.

Watching her give orders in that sure voice, summoned the memory of the drawing and suddenly that confident woman was there, standing in Daine’s place.

Numair quickly banished the image that was both wondrous and disconcerting, allowing himself to just revel in the fact that Daine seemed so at peace amongst the riders. In between bellows and commands, he caught glimpses of her radiant smile.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, casually resting his arms against the top rail of the fence before she finally noticed him and jogged over. She collapsed against one of the posts, leaning heavily on it for support and wiping sweat on her shirt sleeve.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

When she tried to reply, it came out as a hoarse croak. As if sent from the gods, Sarge rode by and dropped a flask of water directly into Daine’s hands. They both watched him ride away with a grin on his face. Numair chuckled as Daine stared down at the object in confusion before finally realizing what it was. Pulling the cork, she gulped the water as if she had spent a month in a desert.

He couldn’t help but grin at her. “Not everyone can shout commands as effortlessly as Sarge.”

Between panting and wiping excess water from her lips Daine smiled back at him, “You’re right about that. Did you need something?”

“I was hoping to try that range-finding experiment again, but I can see you’re far too busy.”

As if someone had called her, Cloud trotted up to Numair and nosed him impatiently.

“She says she’ll go with you and I can keep working with the riders. She seems to think she’ll be able to tell when you’ve gone too far,” translated Daine.

“She can do that without your active participation?”

Daine shrugged, “She’s always been able to find me when I went wandering.”

The pony nosed him again and Daine chuckled, “She says she’s ready when you are.”

Numair eyed Cloud, “I have a feeling that isn’t all she said.”

“Believe me. You don’t want to know.”

“You underestimate the insatiable nature of my curiosity,” he replied.

The pony whinnied in a sort-of laugh and Daine joined her. “Cloud has a very funny name for you.”

He held up his hands in a comical show of surrender, “In that case, my curiosity be damned because I don’t think my ego could take the knowledge.”

Once Daine’s laugh had lessened, Numair looked to Cloud and bowed deeply, “Well if you are willing then please lead the way.”

Cloud trotted off.

Numair passed Daine an exasperated smile before jogging after the pony. Soon he and Cloud were walking at a leisurely pace down the fence line but the mare was looking at him intently.

“What?” he asked Cloud.

The pony trotted forward and then stopped in his path, challenging him with keen eyes.

He sighed, “Now, you know I can’t understand you as Daine can. You’ll have to be a bit more direct than that.”

Cloud huffed and then pointed her nose over his shoulder, appearing more like a hound than a pony. Numair followed the direction Cloud indicated and found Daine was visible in the distance, still darting amongst the riders.

“Daine?” he asked, “What about her?”

The pony looked at him solemnly, lowering her head.

“You’re worried about her?”

The mare nodded in a very un-pony like fashion.

“Is this about yesterday?”

The pony neighed softly, her head falling.

Numair’s shoulders fell, mirroring Cloud’s dejected stance, “I wish you could tell me what happened.”

Cloud blew through her lips in a pony version of a sigh.

“If only she’d trust me,” he told the mare absently, not aware that he was still speaking aloud, “maybe I could help. In the end, that’s all I really want- to help.”

Cloud nodded, seeming to accept that Numair had meant every word he spoke. It was frightening how much he had.

The pony moved back to his side and nudged him, indicating she was ready to begin their trek once more.

“I wonder,” he said, trying to ease the tense silence, “Does being around Daine for extended periods of time make animals more intelligent?”

The pony raised her nose in the air.

He frowned, “Sorry, I didn’t mean offense.”

Cloud lowered her head and neighed softly. He wasn’t sure if that was a reluctant affirmation or an acceptance of his apology. Not that he had time to ponder the answer before a mischievous sparkle appeared in Cloud’s eyes. Numair only had a moment to recognize the look before the pony took off toward a thicket of trees.

“Hey!” Numair called, but the pony only looked back to neigh at him. Cloud stopped a few yards away to graze under the tree, daring him to try to stop her from chopping at the thick patch of grass. He only chuckled.

Jogging, he quickly caught up to the mare and placed his hands on his hips to jokingly admonish her, “You know, we’re supposed to be testing Daine’s range not looking for treats.”

The pony whinnied playfully but raised her head, a clump of grass in her mouth, to trot down the fence line once more. It soon became a game where Cloud would run ahead, and he would pretend to be exasperated by her antics.

They’d gotten about a mile and a half away when Cloud suddenly stopped. For a moment he thought that there would be a repeat of the last night’s experience when he saw that the pony was not tense as she had been before. She was standing there, looking at him.

“Can you still hear her?” he asked.

Cloud shook her head, and Numair smiled, “Then we’d best be getting back. It’ll be dinner soon.”

The dinner bell rang just as they reached the pasture where the free ponies grazed. Numair turned toward Cloud and bowed.

“Thank you, Cloud. I’ll make sure Daine knows how wonderful a companion you’ve been.”

Cloud lowered her head to him in the version of a pony’s bow before galloping off and leaping over the fence to rejoin the herd in the evening grazing.

He smiled after her before turning toward the barracks dining hall. As he predicted, he found Daine sitting amongst a few of the riders, eating as if she was starved. He strode through the room and took up the empty seat next to her.

She swallowed the too-large piece of bread she had been chewing and looked at him, “So, how did it go with Cloud?”

“We determined that your range is about a mile and a half.” He grinned, “She’s quite the conversationalist for a pony. We had a very nice chat, and I think she’s gotten used to me. Tell me, do animals that have been exposed to you for a prolonged period of time usually pick up so many human habits?”

Daine shrugged as if the answer were of no consequence but the way she twirled her spoon within her empty stew bowl told a very different story, “Many folk in the village seemed to think so. The falconer used to pay me to help with the new birds in the spring for just that reason. Why?”

He waved away her poorly hidden concern, “Just curious. Cloud is very different from any other pony I’ve met but that’s a good thing. She’s less dependent on humans and therefore has more freedom than the other ponies.”

She seemed to be relieved by his statement, setting aside her spoon, but she kept her eyes on the empty bowl as she spoke, “It’s strange to think that everything that makes me different is because of magic. I think it’s all still sinking in.”

That was when Numair had a perfect idea. If he wanted Daine to trust him, he needed a show of faith.

Numair picked up her decimated tray and took it to the cleaning servants. When he returned, he offered her a hand, “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”

Sighing, she took his hand and rose to follow him from the dining hall and into the evening air. He led her through the pasture, patiently waiting as she greeted the ponies and then excused herself to continue with him into the forest. He quickly found the well-worn trail that led to a small clearing. The pond there was still, reflecting the darkening sky like a mirror.

Motioning toward a boulder, he asked her to sit. She did so, watching him warily.

“You remember when we were with the king and I used my gift to show you your magic?” he asked.

She nodded, her wariness disappearing in an instant.

“We’re going to do something similar except that instead of using a spell to let you see magical auras I’m going to use a far more complicated one that will let me use my gift through you. Alright?”

She seemed to quiver a little even while she nodded. She was right to be afraid, connecting this way could be disconcerting and utterly wearying. Still, it was something she needed to see if he was to demonstrate just how much he understood what it was like to be different.

He moved slowly, coming to stand behind her and placing his fingers on her temples. Like last time, his gift reacted immediately- pooling at his fingertips.

“Alright, empty your mind.”

He could feel it the moment she did, her magic leaping toward his fingers to lick at them like tongues of flame. Carefully, he twined his gift with hers. The power of her surged through him, hitting him like a lightning bolt.

Rather than wonder about the mysteries of her, he completed the spell and looked up to find the entire world was aglow with light but not in a way he had ever seen before. There was the usual glow of copper light that was Daine but beyond that were the lifelines of nature. Trees and plants were illuminated with threads of emerald while the ground itself glowed a faint bronze. Then there were the animals. They stood in the brush, watching them with curious gazes, each one as bright as Daine.

Her connection to nature made his nearly laughable.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, careful to keep the surprise from his voice.

“By the goddess,” she whispered as she took in the sights of the world. He saw through her eyes as she followed each thread of light to its source. Then she looked down. Veins of red seemed to connect Numair to the earth, spreading from his feet and deep into the stone.

He had to place a wall around his reaction so as not to alert Daine to his utter shock. While he’d always known he was far more connected to the natural world than the average mage, Numair had never expected to see the power he drew from in such a disturbing light. It looked as if he were pulling blood from the earth beneath him.

Unable to stand the sight any longer, he asked her to sit straight so that he could maintain the spell. She did so, looking up to a tree where an owl had landed.

“I wish I could see this by myself,” she whispered in awe.

“You can learn to,” he replied, “This is your magic we are looking through, you just have to practice accessing it. Start with memorizing what your magic feels like and how to reach for it.”

“Reach for it?” she asked.

He nodded though she couldn’t see it. Using his mind to focus on the center of her, where her power was housed, he showed her the pool of copper. She learned quickly, mentally grasping at the strands of her magic.

“Now, use it to draw the owl to you,” he said quietly, gently nudging her but letting her follow her instincts.

She did so, tossing the thread of magic like a lasso.

“You don’t need to motion with your hands. Remember, we are inside your mind right now where the very thought becomes the deed.”

She fisted her hands in her lap and thought about pulling the owl toward her. It flapped its great wings and landed on the rock beside her.

 _You called me, wing sister?_ The owl said. Connected with her, Numair could hear the owl’s measured and emotionless voice.

“Amazing,” he murmured in awe, “We really must do this sometime while Cloud is around.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, her focus on the owl’s inquisitive look.

_Why are you and the two-legger connected so?_

“He’s-”

“There’s no need to speak aloud. He should be able to hear you, mind to mind.”

She bit her lip so hard he Numair could taste the hint blood on his tongue, “Could we just do this a little at a time? Please?”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease as he could feel her nervousness rise, “As you wish.”

Daine focused on the owl again, “He is my teacher. He’s showing me how to greet you properly.”

The bird looked between Numair and Daine, ruffling his feathers. _Greetings are for later. Now is the time to hunt,_ said the owl, managing to convey annoyance despite his monotone.

It flew away and Daine’s magic disconnected from it.

“I think that is enough for now,” said Numair, his body was beginning to tingle all over as his gift turned into a blizzard, swirling to the point of violence from the extended contact with the wild magic.

“How do you feel?” he asked her instead of worrying about the effect of her gift on him.

She opened her mouth to answer when something across the clearing caught her attention.

Following her line of sight, he saw something emerge from the pond. It was small and blue but humanoid in shape. Its skin was glistening scales that covered her from head to toe, and her hair looked like water captured in tiny invisible tubes.

Numair and Daine’s eyes met for a moment in shared awe.

“Undine,” he whispered, and the small creature shrieked. It dove back into the pool, disappearing into the water. “Oh, I’m sorry little one. Won’t you come back up again?”

There was no answer and no reappearance, much to Numair’s disappointment.

“What are Undine?” asked Daine.

“Water sprites. They were trapped in the divine realms with the other immortals. Now they’re coming back too.”

“So, not all immortals are bad?” she asked, a slight crease between her brows.

He shook his head, “You of all people should know that any creature has the capability for both good and evil. Things are rarely black and white.”

Daine hummed her understanding before trying to stand. She swayed a little, but Numair steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

“Take it easy, magelet.”

“Magelet?” she asked, confused.

He smiled at her even while his foggy brain tried to understand why he’d just called her that. “Literally it means ‘little mage’,” he shrugged though he felt anything but ease, “It seems to fit. You are quite small.”

She scowled at him, “I only seem small because you’re so dratted tall. I happen to be a fine height.”

He laughed as he turned to lead them out of the clearing, “Whatever you say, magelet.”

 

“Ogres,” Jonathan said the word like a curse as he dropped a hastily written missive on his desk. His strong hand ran over his face, stopping to rub his eyes with thumb and forefingers. Tiny bags had begun to form under his stormy blue orbs, leaving him looking much older than his thirty-two years would suggest. “Ogres killed Commander Renner yesterday when his group was scouting the foothills.”

Numair hadn’t personally known the commander of the fifth rider group, but he heard Alanna murmur a prayer in the man’s honor and found himself doing the same.

“If there were any doubt that the creatures were being sent by our enemies, that evaporated the moment they started attacking the riders and royal caravans. More than one advisor has suggested that I cancel this year’s tour of the kingdom, but I know that if I do that we’re basically telling Ozorne that we’re afraid of him. Gods bless it all!”

Alanna and Numair passed each other a knowing look as their regent slammed his hand down on the desk, his gift flaring in a sprinkling of blue-tinged sparks.

“There isn’t much we can do,” said Alanna who had just arrived back from her latest deployment in defense of the realm, “The Own are stretched thin, and the Riders are losing people every week. We can’t keep up with both the immortal attacks and the state-sponsored raiders from Scanran. Arming the common folk might help but without training or discipline, their little more than a mob.”

Jonathan collapsed in his chair, folding under the weight of his frustration. He looked to Numair with a sparkle of hope in his eye.

“What about the detection spell?”

Numair sighed, “I’m afraid that I’ve hit a wall. The immortals are too varied in species and ability to track with a single spell. Without the original spells to work from, I can’t determine for certain what is causing the breaches in the barrier between the realms. I’m sorry Jonathan, but even I can’t create miracles out of thin air.”

The king let out a long breath, “I know you are trying your best but I just-”

“I know, your majesty,” said Numair softly.

Jonathan pushed himself from his chair and began gathering the papers from his desk, “I’d better go. Thayet threatened to start a food war if I left her alone with another diplomat during dinner.”

Alanna chuckled though it seemed forced, “With the way Thayet throws peas, that is a very serious threat.”

The king gave his champion a small smile, “Indeed.”

They all stood and went their separate ways, each of them leaving a little more burdened than they had been when they arrived. Alanna was likely to find solace in the knight’s training yard, but Numair sought his most recent form of escape. Daine and her bafflingly wild magic.

He found her alone, sitting on the top rail of the fence that enclosed the free ponies. She watched them without really seeing them; her thoughts turned inward.

She didn’t look at him, but he saw the change in her demeanor at his approach.

When she spoke, her voice was distant, “I wish I could see those threads of color all the time. Seeing the world through normal eyes seems dull now.”

“I know what you mean,” he replied softly, “but it’s probably better if you just focus on being able to see the wild magic. It’ll help more in the long run.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, “Are you joking?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been seeing copper all day! It’s distracting! At least if the whole world were lit, I wouldn’t have those flashes at the corner of my eyes!”

He couldn’t hide his shock, “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied in seeming exasperation, “Did you know Onua has the copper light? Like underneath her gift?”

He nodded, “Of course. She’s what the K’mir call ‘horse-hearted’. A lot of people have wild magic that gives them a connection to animals or the earth, but you’re the first person I’ve met who has so much of it as to need training on how to control it.”

“You seem deeply connected to the earth yourself,” Daine remarked, her eyes drifting down to his feet.

He sighed but forced himself to explain. Trust, after all, was a two-way street. “It’s a unique quirk of my gift.” He peered at her comically, defaulting to that equally quirky part of him that turned to humor when he felt awkward, “But that’s just between us.”

She smiled, “Good to know I’m not the only one who’s strange.”

“You’re not strange. You’re unique. Something to be celebrated, not feared.” He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for himself or Daine.

“Spoken like someone of experience.”

He smiled at her reference to one of their first conversations, “True. I wasn’t always the witty wonder you see before you.”

She chuckled and leaped down from the fence to land next to him with far more grace than expected of a teenager, “So, what are we learning today?”

He smirked and pointed toward one of the ponies in the field, “Call that pony over here, please.”

Furrowing her brow, she opened her mouth to call for the pony, but he clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not with your mouth but with your mind.”

“But she’s right there.” she tried to argue past his hand.

He let it fall away, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s important to break you of the habit of assigning physical motions to magical workings.”

“Why?”

He sighed, “Many reasons but mostly because in order to control your magic you need to learn to discipline your mind. If your thinking is more direct than you can apply your magic more directly.”

She frowned and averted her eyes, “I’m not sure I can do it.”

“You won’t know until you try,” he tapped her forehead with his index finger, “Remember the thought-”

“Is the deed,” Daine finished for him with an eye roll, “I know.”

She steeled herself and focused on the pony he had indicated. For a long time, he watched her until she finally let out a frustrated breath.

“Think of your magic, call to it and use it to connect to her.”

Taking a deep breath, Daine tried again, but the pony didn’t react in any way.

Finally, Numair touched her shoulder. Her head turned to him so quickly the motion blurred.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep practicing, but that’s enough for now. Come, I have something for you.”

She let out another long breath of ultimate defeat before following him toward the palace. He opened the door to his rooms without touching the knob and waved her inside.

She eyed him, “Show off.”

He grinned and patted her on the head, “Don’t be upset, magelet. You’ll get it in time. Soon you’ll be calling entire herds of ponies effortlessly.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered but passed him to walk through the door.

Following her, he moved toward his bookshelf where he quickly picked a leather-bound volume from among the others. He held it out to her, but she made no move to take it.

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“A book on mammalian anatomy.”

“Uh, what?”

He sighed, “Right, sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not a scholar. A mammal is a fancy term for animals that are warm-blooded and birth live offspring. Anatomy refers to the inner-workings of the body. Muscle, bone, nerves.”

She still didn’t move to take the book, “And what would I do with a book about that?”

He passed her a bored expression, “Read it. If you’re to learn to heal your friends, then you’ll need to know how they’re put together.”

Slowly, she reached for the tome, touching it tentatively before finally taking it from him. He watched her as she opened it to a random page which showed a detailed drawing of a bear’s skeleton.

Her head shot up, awe in her eyes, “This is amazing.”

He smiled, “Make sure you bring it to your lessons so we can study it together but feel free to read it when you have time.”

Daine’s eyes went wide, and she snapped the book shut, trying to shove it back at him, “Surely you don’t mean for me to keep it! The likes of me don’t keep such things!”

Frowning, he covered her hands with his own. She gripped the book tightly under his palms, shaking. Catching her gaze, he spoke gently but with just enough authority to convey his displeasure with the way she had spoken of herself.

“Daine, listen to me carefully. You are a student mage, and I am your teacher. It is my duty to give you whatever books or scrolls you require to learn everything you wish to learn.”

She looked down at the book, and he slowly withdrew his hands from hers. After a moment she looked up at him, “Are you sure?”

He smiled softly, “You want to learn, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“Good,” he motioned for her to sit on his bed while he pulled the chair from under his desk, “then let’s start with page one.”

She turned to the first page and together they poured over the drawings and information on the primary bodily systems found in most mammals. In the beginning, Daine remained hesitant, but as they went on, she began asking questions and letting her enthusiasm shine through.

It was easy to lose track of time sitting there watching her take in the information with a fascination that few could rival. Before he knew it, the final bell of the night rang, calling out the twenty-second hour.

He stood and stretched, “We’ll pick up there tomorrow. We’ll also be joining the riders in meditation every night from now on.”

She sighed, “If I must.”

He chuckled, “You act as though I asked you to eat dirt.”

She only shrugged and stood, holding out the book to him. “I still think this should stay here. My friends like to sneak into my room when I’m sleeping, and I’d hate for it to get ruined.”

He waved her concerns away, “It’s spelled against dirt and tearing. You don’t have to worry about your friends.”

Daine pulled the book back and hugged it to her chest as if it were precious, “Thank you, Numair.”

Without thought he brushed a rogue curl from her cheek, “It’s my pleasure, magelet.”

 

The next day found Numair dealing with palace affairs, which mostly consisted of visiting the newly established mage university and conferring with the other mages within the king’s service. By the time the bell rang for the fifteenth hour, he was more than ready to spend a few hours not worried about immortals and politics. He excused himself from a meeting with the head palace healer in the hopes that he could convince Daine to go with him to clearing and attempt talking to the animals there.

Instead, he arrived to find Daine with a bow in her hand. She stood in front of a group of trainees, speaking confidently about the need to focus on the target and not the arrow. Demonstrating, she took a bolt from the ground and notched it. The bow she used was almost as big as she was but she drew it effortlessly. When she loosed, the arrow flew straight and true, embedding itself in the target so deeply that the tip was no longer visible.

Pointing the weapon at the ground, she looked at the trainees and ordered them to form lines to take turns firing at the targets. They did so without hesitation, looking to Daine for approval after each shot. She floated around the trainees, adjusting grips and stances. She gave praise readily and never barked at the trainees, gently correcting them until they all became confident archers.

Numair, entranced by the scene, didn’t see Sarge come up beside him.

“She’s an outstanding archer so we thought it might be a good idea to have her teach these trainees a thing or two.”

Numair smiled, keeping his focus on Daine, “It’s strange to see her so sure of herself. It makes me wonder what I’m doing wrong.”

“I never like trainees that remind me of myself. It’s hard to see someone struggle with the same things I struggled with.”

It was like Sarge had physically struck him, leaving him shocked. He couldn’t even blink as he watched Daine reach out and move a trainee’s fingers on the string of the bow. The meaning behind the words brought forth the memories of Arram Draper- a boy who had been so afraid of his deep connection to his magic that he’d purposely handicapped himself by studying subjects that wouldn’t force him to act on instinct. Then the moment came when circumstance had him manifesting so much power it had nearly killed him.

“She wants to learn, so start there. The rest will come in time,” said Sarge, clapping Numair on the shoulder.

He turned to look at his friend with a grin, “You are far too wise.”

Sarge gave him a knowing smirk in return, “With age comes wisdom, my friend.”

Once the archery lessons were over, Daine jogged up to Numair. “Is it time for lessons, already?”

“Afraid so, magelet, but I’m confident that today is the day you master silently speaking to ponies,” he said with a smile.

Daine sighed, “Maybe.”

“No ‘maybe’.”

The girl fell into step beside him as he began toward the pasture.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I thought about what you said to the trainees, about focusing on the target and not the arrow. Well, magic isn’t much different. This time when you try to call, hmmm, that grey pony with the platinum mane, I want you to think about your magic as an arrow with a rope tied to it. Once you have your magic, focus on your target and just let it go.”

Daine seemed to ponder his instruction carefully. Bracing her arms against the top rail of the fence, she looked at the pony he had indicated then closed her eyes.

Numair blinked and brought forth his magical sight just in time to see a tendril of copper light fly across the field to touch the grey pony. The animal’s head shot up, and it trotted over.

“I did it!” Daine exclaimed as she petted the pony in gratitude.

“Excellent job. See? All it took was a different perspective. Now, let her go. Silently.”

The copper light broke, and the mare trotted away.

Daine’s smile lit her face as she looked at him, “I can do magic!”

“Yes, you can, but we still have some work to do before you will be able to heal your friends.”

“Then let’s get started,” she replied enthusiastically.

Numair chuckled, “As you wish, magelet. Please call over that roan pony grazing at the back of the herd.”

Daine closed her eyes and did as he asked. The pony’s head came up, but it didn’t move despite the fact that Numair could see the magic connecting them.

Opening her eyes, Daine passed Numair a deep frown that darkened her previously bright expression. “He doesn’t want to come. He says he doesn’t want to leave the patch of grass he’s just found. I don’t want to make him if he doesn’t want to.”

Numair smiled gently, “Sounds reasonable as far as addendums go. Why don’t you call the one next to him? The spotted one.”

She let out a breath he was sure she didn’t know she was holding and turned to focus on the spotted pony.

“This time, leave your eyes open,” he told her, and she did as he said. Just as it’s grey companion had, the spotted pony looked up and trotted over, but as soon as it arrived, it was turning away. The pony galloped across the field to neigh at a gelding who had moved to graze near a small tree.

Daine leaped over the fence, waving her arms at the spotted pony.

“That’s not very nice, young lady! You’d best leave him alone!”

Thoroughly admonished, the spotted pony galloped away.

“What happened?” asked Numair, as she walked back toward the fence.

Daine blushed, “She was teasing the gelding over by the tree. Apparently, she has been playing a game with him all day where she chases him away from whatever grass he’s able to find.”

“Good to know misery for the sake of entertainment isn’t limited to humans,” Numair replied dryly.

Daine frowned but tried to hide it by turning back to break her connection to the pony.

Why did he always feel like he was walking through a field of glass around her? One as gangly as him had no business trying to avoid verbal pitfalls. He was sure to end up stumbling.

“Numair! Daine!” a familiar voice called from some distance behind them. Numair turned to find Onua waving to them from near the barracks, “We’re meditating now!”

Numair waved in acknowledgment before turning back toward his student. Part of him wanted to ask her why his remark had caused her mood change but thought better of it. There was no point in trying to squeeze water from a stone.

Instead, he offered her a smile, “Come, it's time for some well-deserved meditation.”

She sighed, “Goodie.”

He chuckled, “It’s only a chore if you make it so.”

They walked together up to the training hall where the riders and their trainers were already settling in for the night’s meditation. Mage and student parted, Numair taking up the position near the front offered by Onua and Sarge while Daine settled in among a small group of trainees. A male, tall and fair, smiled at Daine’s approach and patted the empty space next to him. Daine smiled in thanks before settling down into the offered seat.

Numair only knew the boy from reputation, Evin was apparently a talented rider despite having grown up with player-folk. Thayet had mentioned her wish that one day the boy would become a commander.

Part of the mage was glad to see Daine making friends; the other wished she would choose them more carefully. Reports of riders killed by immortals or raiders were coming in daily now.

Then again, with war looming on the horizon, all attachment was just another potential source of heartache.

Numair forced his dire thoughts to recede. There was no point in counting the stab wounds before the dagger had fallen. With some meditation, he’d regain control of his often overactive imagination.

It didn’t take him long to find that state of limbo where only he and his magic remained. The nebulous light that was his gift drifted around him like a fog, but there was something new. Visible at all the places where his physical body touched ground were red veins of light. His gift touched it in places as if feeding off its boundless energy. Apparently, his connection to Daine had enlightened him to more than was strictly necessary.

Trying, and failing, to ignore the sight, he set to the often arduous task of pulling his gift back into himself. As he did, he noticed that the red lights began to dim and break away from him. When he’d finally drawn the last tendrils of his gift back into himself, the red lines disappeared completely.

The idea that he had control of this aspect of his gift calmed him. He hated to think that his gift was predatory, stealing from the earth.

Suddenly the crash of a door shook him from his trance. He opened his eyes to find Cloud galloping past rows of shocked trainees toward Daine. The girl didn’t seem upset or hurt, but the pony moved as if she were possessed. She headbutted Daine, knocking the girl back.

Numair hadn’t even realized he was moving until he found himself kneeling next to his student. She didn’t seem to notice him, her wide eyes staring up at Cloud with so much fear that she might have been staring down a sword.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” she whispered.

Cloud huffed.

Slowly, Daine reached up and touched the pony’s nose. She was shaking.

“Are you alright?” he asked, unable to restrain the worry in his tone.

She nodded absently, never taking her eyes from Cloud.

“Thank you,” she whispered, but he knew the gratitude wasn’t directed at him.

Cloud backed away from Daine and eyed Numair. Taking the hint, he moved to help Daine to her feet. All the eyes in the room were on them, so he forced himself to smile.

“Don’t worry everyone. We were experimenting and I don’t think either of us thought it would work so well.”

Most of the trainees turned toward their trainers in question. Experts at appearing calm in strange situations, Sarge and Buri nodded their understanding and returned to their meditation. Onua frowned in worry but Numair waved away her concern, silently promising to explain as soon as he knew himself what was going on.

Together mage and pony shielded Daine from further scrutiny as they led her from the hall and into the night air. Once outside Daine seemed to relax a little.

Turning to Cloud, she said, “You’d better return to the pasture. We’ve caused enough trouble.”

Cloud peered at Numair in warning before turning to trot back to the field. Numair gently urged Daine in the direction of her room with a hand on her lower back. She went without a fuss, even allowing him to open the door for her.

He followed her in, closing the door behind him quietly. When he turned back, she was sitting on her bed, staring into emptiness as if her ghosts had manifested there.

“What happened?” he asked.

Her voice was hollow as she answered, “Nothing. I just had a headache.”

“Cloud wouldn’t have broken down the doors of the training hall for a headache,” he replied, his frustration coming through in his tone, “She was in a panic. Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because it’s PRIVATE! Can’t I have anything PRIVATE ANYMORE!”

“Daine-” he tried, but there was no containing the anger she had chosen over trusting him.

“LEAVE ME ALONE! I’m TIRED, and my head HURTS!”

Despite her attempts to the contrary, tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

He wanted to help, had never wanted anything more in life, but there was nothing he could do. Not if she wouldn’t tell him the problem.

“Very well,” he said in a carefully measured tone, “but I wish you would trust me.”

He quietly shut the door behind him as he left. Once outside his feet carried him toward the fence. Cloud was waiting there for him, her large brown eyes filled with concern.

“She wouldn’t talk to me,” he confessed to the pony.

Cloud huffed in annoyance.

Numair reached across the fence and touched the mare’s neck. Looking toward the sky, he spoke mostly to himself, “I wish I knew what was wrong.”

Cloud nosed him through the fence, gently comforting him with her understanding. He gave the pony a sad smile, “Must be harder for you. You can’t ease her pain any more than I can.”

Cloud’s head dropped in defeat, and Numair sighed, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep trying.”

The pony nodded, and he realized that Cloud trusted him to keep the promise he hadn’t meant to make.

It was the weight of that oath that led him directly to his shelf and to the volume titled “Wild Magic”. For a moment, he held the book with shaking hands but steeled himself and flipped it open. He scanned the table of contents, the first chapter giving him pause. It was written as a warning. “Never Break A Promise To An Animal: Understanding the bond between nature and magic”.

He shook his head and turned to the first page of the chapter. There he found a page of carefully printed text, but it was the note in the corner of the page that turned his skin to ice. In a messily written script, it said, “You won this fair and square, dearie. Don’t worry so much.”

Numair knew on instinct who had written the note. The Graveyard Hag.

Frowning, he set the book on his desk and started studying. Not that he could have slept anyway.


	7. Shared Fears

The next morning’s bell hit him like a mace. He hadn’t even noticed that the sun had risen. 

Today was the day he was to accompany the riders to the summer training camp at Pirate’s Swoop. To say he was not excited about sitting in a saddle for the next week was an understatement of epic proportions. He hadn’t even packed.

Stretching, he closed his book and stood to search for his traveling packs.

Opening his closet, he found them buried under a pile of dirty laundry. Picking up a wicker basket that had been meant for soiled clothing, he emptied the randomly collected rocks and proceeded to refill it with its purposed contents.

Ducking out into the hall, he carefully checked both directions before leaving the basket outside his door. If the laundress caught him depositing his stash of dirty laundry, he was subject to a verbal lashing like only the plump woman could give. 

Just the memory of his last brush with the laundress gave him chills.

Quickly he packed whatever clean clothes he had left and changed into the simple linen shirt, breeches and leather boots that would afford him some semblance of comfort on the road. In the stables he found Spots, his tall black and white gelding, already saddled. 

The chief hostler, Stefan, was giving Spots bits of apple. The man was stocky and bear-like but with bright chocolate-brown eyes that set everyone around him at ease.

“Master Numair,” said the man, looking up with a kind smile, “Did you oversleep?”

“I wish that were the case,” he grumbled as he took the reins from Stefan and began the task of climbing into the saddle. Which was just that- a task. 

Once he was up, Stefan whisper to Spots- offering the horse another piece of apple for his tolerance. Then to Numair, he said, “Safe journeys, Master Numair.”

“Thanks,” Numair replied, offering the man a sleepy smile.

Nudging his mount forward, he headed for the group assembling near the main road. He quickly found Daine sitting at the helm of a large covered wagon speaking softly to the spare ponies and horses that had lined up perfectly behind Cloud.

Numair allowed Spots his head so that the gelding could trot over to meet the girl, only stopping long enough for his rider to drop packs into the back of the wagon.

“Oh! Who’s this!” asked Daine as Spots nosed her gently. Her mood seemed to have lightened considerably from the last night, positively glowing as she greeted the horse.

“Spots,” Numair replied. The gelding stood tall and straight at the mention of his name as if trying to impress the girl who gently stroked his head.

“He’s sweet,” she said, but Numair barely heard her over his body-deep yawn. Immediately, Spots reacted, letting his head fall so that his master was at ease.

Daine giggled softly, “And protective. He knows you’re going to fall asleep and that he’ll have to wake you when the party starts moving. He thinks you’d be useless without him.”

Numair smiled lazily, “He’s right.”

Spots whinnied softly as his master yawned again. Before he knew it, Numair had fallen asleep under the watchful eye of his mount and the soft smile of his student.

Somewhere in the ether of sleep, he heard Daine say, “Let him rest. He deserves some rest.”

 

When the group stopped for lunch and to switch mounts, Daine gently shook him awake. He stretched, surprised to find he was tied to the saddle.

“Sorry, Numair, but Spots was worried you’d fall. He refused to move until I made sure you were safe.”

Numair chuckled and stroked the gelding’s mane.

“He’s the perfect mount for you. You two are a lot alike.”

Numair grinned, “Really? How so?”

“He’s got a lot of patience,” Daine replied, looking down at her hands.

It was an apology, but one that would be tactless to acknowledge so Numair instead joked that the horse had to be a gift from the goddess herself to put up with a rider like him. The lightness of his humor put a smile on Daine’s face.

Numair was still tired after lunch so he asked Daine if he could sit with her on the wagon rather than be tied to his saddle again. She chuckled and scooted over to give him room to relax. Before long he was asleep again.

When they stopped in the evening to camp, Numair was feeling more rested than he had in years. He helped Daine pull the rations from the wagon and disengage the cart horse (a stocky older gelding named Mangle) from his harness. While Daine groomed and fed the horses, he found a secluded clearing and pulled his book from his pack. Settling against the trunk of a large oak, he began to read it once more from the beginning.

He had found the information within indispensable. It explained, thoroughly, both the wonders and pitfalls of wild magic. Healing, he had learned, would be a difficult skill for Daine to learn as it was far more taxing on those with wild magic. Unlike a gifted healer, who only needed to exert their will, Daine would have to put her heart into healing her friends. Not that Numair thought she would find that particularly difficult, the trouble would come from exhaustion. If she put too much of herself into the healing she could kill herself. That, to Numair, was a frightening prospect.

Daine found him a short time later, just as he had finished the passage on mental symbiosis.

“What are you reading?” she asked. 

“A book on wild magic. Are you ready for tonight’s lesson?”

“As long as you are,” she replied quietly.

He chuckled to ease the tension that had appeared in her shoulders, “I’m well rested now, but even if I weren’t it would take a lot more than fatigue to keep me from fulfilling my duty as your teacher.”

Daine looked at him with gratitude, “Let me get my book.”

He nodded and carefully put his book away as he waited for her. When Daine returned, she turned the anatomy book over to him. He set it in his lap, ignoring it for the moment to call his gift.

When he was finished with his spell he said, “Now, I have just released two of the mounts from their tethers. I want you to call them.”

“Which ones are they?”

He grinned, “That is for me to know and you to find out.”

She scowled, “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because you need to be able to sense those animals available to be called. You remember when the stormwings came and you called every animal nearby? Wouldn’t it be better only to call those few who could be useful to you, therefore, putting fewer of your friends in danger?”

He could see that his words had the desired effect as Daine steeled herself and closed her eyes.

“You released Mangle and Spots,” she murmured.

“I already knew that so you don’t need to tell me. Just call them.”

She frowned and a moment later, the two horses emerged from the brush. Spots came over to nose Numair, and he produced a treat for the gelding. After finishing it, Spots sniffed his master. 

“That’s all I have you spoiled beast,” he said pushing the gelding away with a chuckle. Spots stepped back with a playful huff.

“Now I’ve released some more. Call them. All of them,” said Numair.

Daine’s eyes closed again, her hand resting on Mangle’s back as the old horse grazed on lush grasses.

After a few moments, her eyes suddenly flew wide open. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Of course you can. Keep trying,” Numair said gently.

“No, I can’t do it.”

He frowned, “Why not?”

“My head hurts.”

He let out a sigh at her obvious lie and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Perhaps I’m pushing you too hard. You’ve learned more in a few days than most mages learn in months.”

She stared at him in shock, “But I thought-”

“What? That I was disappointed? Not in the slightest.” Gods, he sounded just like one of his instructors, his tone chiding but not at the same time. He just couldn’t seem to rein in his frustration. Not because she seemed unwilling to cooperate, but because she had felt the need to lie to him.

His gift buzzed beneath his skin, letting him know that his temper was getting the better of him. With a deep breath, he let it go before he did something he regretted. 

Patting the ground next to him, he waited for her to sit before handing her the anatomy book.

“We will study for a while and then join the others for meditation.” 

She took the book but didn’t open it, staring down at it as if it were a confounding problem. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “I don’t want you to apologize. I want you to be honest with me. You don’t have to lie about being afraid. We’re all afraid of something.”

Daine looked up at him suddenly, “Even you?”

He nodded solemnly, “Especially me.”

She looked back down and began fingering something that hung around her neck. If Numair wasn’t mistaken, it looked like a silver claw.

“Do you ever worry about losing control, you know of your gift?” she asked.

“All the time,” he admitted quietly, his shock seeping into his voice.

Her head shot up, and her smokey eyes pinned him. He met them with honesty.

Unsure why he felt the need to, he explained, “My gift has always been tumultuous. For a long time, I couldn’t do simple things like light candles without them exploding. Once, when I was in school, I flooded my classroom just trying to raise water from a bowl. I learned to control it because if I don’t I could hurt someone.”

“How do you control it?” she asked her voice only an octave above a whisper.

“Practice and meditation.”

“Just like you keep trying to get me to do.”

He nodded.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

He couldn’t speak as his ghosts wrapped around his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

Taking his silence for what it was, she fingered the edges of her book, “Can we just study tonight? I like studying with you. I promise, tomorrow, I will try again.”

Warmth spread through his chest at her words, loosening the grip his past held over him.

“As you wish, magelet.”

 

Halfway through the next day, the smell of sea salt filled the air. Miri, one of the rider trainees that Daine had befriended, pulled up beside the wagon and took an exaggerated breath.

“The ocean!” Miri exclaimed, “Oh gods! I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

Evin stage-whispered to Daine, “If she starts talking nautical, let me know. I have some earplugs you can borrow.”

Miri smacked Evin playfully, but as the ocean came into sight, all three looked out in awe. Daine, in particular, was gaping at the view.

“You’ve never seen the ocean before, have you?” asked Numair, unable to keep the smile from his face.

She was so stunned that she could only subtly shake her head in response. He chuckled and continued to watch her until the group finally came to a stop on the beach. 

Enjoying the view himself, Numair scanned the horizon. Then, a short way down from their campsite, Numair saw a sight that unnerved him.

“Daine, could you take care of Spots for me?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the black object in the distance.

In his peripherals, he could see her frown but ultimately nod.

He quickly got down from his mount and passed her the reins.

The object was a rock, twice as tall as Numair and pitted by high heat. It had been sitting there at least three days by the way the sand had swelled around it.

A moment later, Alanna joined him. The ruby at her throat glowed softly, only confirming Numair’s suspicion.

“What is it?”

“Liquid fire, thrown by catapult and cooled on the beach,” Numair replied, his voice shaking.

“But we haven’t had any reports of attacks here.”

“You wouldn’t. Only battle mages can create liquid fire like this, and I only know of one vessel with the ability to hit the shore. Carthaki war barges.”

Alanna made the sign against evil, “You think they’re here somewhere?”

He didn’t answer, he needed more information before he could. Turning away from his friend, Numair shed his boots and stepped into the ocean waves. With the added power of the salt water, he could send his gift out to the farthest reaches of the ocean.

“They’re out there,” he whispered as he found the shielded craft, “but they’re far off. Still technically in international waters.”

Alanna, being the woman of action that she was, started back toward the camp, “I have to tell the king.”

Once she had gone from sight, he found himself praying beyond hope that Ozorne was playing games. He wasn’t ready for war. Not yet.

Who was he fooling? He’d never be ready for war with his former home. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter.

Letting out a dejected sigh, Numair walked along the edge of the waves as he thought. 

Soon he came upon Thayet and Daine wading in the water. 

Daine seemed utterly stupefied as the surf flowed around her ankles, staring out into the water as if the ocean itself had possessed her. He’d been about to call out to her when Thayet let out a K’miri war cry, shocking Daine out of her stupor.

“Stop that, your majesty,” said Numair with all the practiced patience of the authority figure he could never truly be, “You’re likely to call down an entire company of K’miri riders with a cry like that.”

Thayet frowned, jogging over to meet him.

“Alanna said you think Carthaki war barges are out there?”

He nodded sadly, “They’re shielded, but they’re there.”

Thayet cursed and turned to fall in beside him, “On the bright side, if they try anything we’ll finally be able to declare war.”

“I wouldn’t really consider that a bright side.”

Thayet eyed him, “Better than playing the Emperor’s games. I hate waiting around for the inevitable.”

When Numair didn’t answer, Thayet let out a long breath. “Well, I’m sure Jonathan will want to speak with me as well.”

Numair nodded and watched the queen trudge back up to the camp, her hands buried in her pockets.

Looking down the beach, he saw that Daine was still in the same spot she had been before. He walked up to her slowly, not wanting to startle her but doing so anyways the moment he spoke. “You look baffled.”

Her head swiveled around to find him, “There’s singing, but I can only hear it with my feet in the water.”

He smiled, “Saltwater tends to work as a magical amplifier. You could be hearing any number of creatures.”

A magnificent grey animal crested the waves, it’s limb poking through the air as if to wave toward the shore.

“Look!” Daine exclaimed in delight, “What is that?”

“A whale,” replied Numair, “They’re mammals that live in the oceans. They tend to speak to each other using advanced vocal patterns often known as whale song. Is that what you’re hearing?”

She grinned, “I think so. Whatever it is, it’s beautiful.”

The way she looked out at the whales, he found himself disagreeing. The sight of her reverence, the way she lit up, that was true beauty.

“What?” she asked, and he found that he’d been staring at her.

Shaking away his trance, he blinked rapidly and averted his eyes, “Nothing. Just be careful, alright? If whales come too close to the shore, they can become stuck and starve to death.”

Daine nodded sadly, “Thank you for telling me. I would have hated to hurt such a wondrous animal.”

“What else are teachers for?” he joked, burying his hands in his pockets as his magic tingled around them.

She looked down, stepping back from the reach of the waves, “Actually. I have something I want to tell you. Can we go somewhere? Where no one will hear?”

He nodded, “Just let me tell the others.”

A few words to Onua was all that was required before Daine and Numair started off down the beach, heading the opposite direction from the black rock and toward some shallow caves that would protect them from the chilling ocean breeze.

He waved for her to sit and she did, once more fiddling with the strange silver claw at her throat. To give her a moment to gather her thoughts, he collected some driftwood and started a fire.

Settling across from her, he waited until she was ready to begin.

“Promise me you won’t interrupt. If you do, I don’t think I’ll be able to finish the story.”

He nodded his oath as he didn’t trust his voice. Daine accepted his silent agreement, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Staring down into the flames, she spoke in a voice touched by ghosts.

“When the thaw came, Ma sent Cloud and me over to the next village. She had a friend there who’d married a herdsman. Lory and her husband were always nice to me, so I didn’t mind. Ya see, Ma had heard that Lory was coughing something fierce, so she wanted me to take over a syrup. Before I left, she made me promise not to return home in the dark, so I stayed the night. The other villagers wouldn’t let me play with their littles, but Lory let me play with her three-year-old.”

She closed her eyes against the memories that haunted her, “They’re sweet when they’re that small.

“Coming out of their place I didn’t know anything was wrong until I was almost to the house. I could taste the ashes of the mill before I saw. The miller was dead, burned to death locked inside his tool shed. I found out later that they’d taken his wife and daughter. I hate to think-”

She stopped and took another deep breath before moving on.

“They all fought. Ma, Gran Da, our hound Mammoth, ponies- even the stupid chickens. They’d killed a few of them, but nothing could stop men like that. They didn’t leave anything whole, burning it all. Mammoth used his last breath to tell me what happened.

“It was two days before anyone came to see. After Ma had cared for their sick, helped birth their children! TWO DAYS!”

As soon as her anger shown it died, leaving her voice empty.

“Only my animal friends came right away to see if I was alright. The wolves shared in my anger, my disgust, at what humans had done. They couldn’t understand why men hunted each other because wolves don’t hunt their own. But I thought of those raiders as prey and Brokefang understood. I wanted them dead. I wanted them all dead for what they’d done to my family.

“The pack helped me find the trail the raiders had left, and we followed it to a cave. The raiders were still there, drunk and pleased with themselves for having killed the witch and her crazy animals. Hearin' that, I didn’t want to be human. Humans were cruel and evil. I wanted to be pack, so that is what I did. Together we tore those men to pieces. I only remembered myself long enough to free the miller’s wife and daughter so they could run. By the time it was over, I had no idea who Daine Sarrasri was. I was pack-sister. I hunted with them, slept with them. They became my new family. Even Cloud couldn’t come near me.”

She shook her head at the memory, “I scared her.”

Daine pulled her knees to her chest, holding them to her as if she could protect herself from her memories.

“When the men from the village came, I told the pack to go to the old den and hide. I stayed, maybe I was getting a little human again, but I wanted to know what the villagers wanted. I hid in the brush and waited until Hakkon Falconer came. I knew him well, I’d help him train birds in the spring, so I came out of hiding when he called to me. He was so calm, told me that the women I’d freed had made it back to the village. He offered to take me in, to let me earn my keep helping with the birds.

“I came out onto the road not knowing that men were waiting in the bushes with crossbows trained to kill me. They would’ve too, but Cloud snuck up on one of ‘em and kicked ‘im. Even then, they shot at me as I tried to run. One got me in the arm. Hakkon called out to me. He said that it was for my own good, that I needed to be put down before I hurt someone else. At least he was reasonable. The others just called me a monster.” 

Numair’s fists clenched around his knees as he listened. He almost didn’t want her to continue the story but he knew she had to.

“The pack found me and kept me safe, but it wasn’t enough. The men kept hunting me, so I told the pack to run before they got hurt too.

“Me and Cloud managed to escape into the deep mountains. I still don’t know how I survived because the men kept coming for me even then. I think it was a week before they finally gave up the hunt. Once we were reasonably safe, Cloud kept biting me until I started thinking like a human again.”

She finally met his gaze, her eyes shining with tears. “That is why I am afraid. When I go too deep into my magic, I start to forget that I’m Daine, that I’m ME.”

The tears began to fall, and he found himself moving toward her, coming to kneel at her side. She watched him with wide and frozen eyes, reminding him of a frightened deer. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face where it had stuck in her tears.

“Those men were the monsters. Not you.”

She threw herself at him, burying her face in his chest and letting everything she had bottled up flow out of her.

He held her there while his thoughts raced from one tempest of emotion to another.

To hunt her, a girl who couldn’t help who she was any more than the sun could help rising in the east, was an injustice of the highest order. She was a human being for Mithros’ sake! 

A sadistic part of himself wished the earth would swallow the whole of that village but he quickly put those thoughts to the back of his mind before he did something he regretted.

Instead, he focused on the girl who was clinging to him like a lifeline. Eventually, she calmed down and disentangled her thin fingers from his shirt. He let her go, never taking his eyes from her as she tried to put herself back together.

“I’m glad you told me,” he said after she had banished the last of her tears, “Now I can help.”

Daine turned wide eyes on him, “You can?”

He forced himself to smile, “Of course I can. Look who you’re speaking to.”

“How?”

“It’s a simple spell,” he said, waving away her question playfully, “I can create a barrier between your human essence and your magic so that your magic won’t overwhelm you again.”

“Really?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” he replied softly, working to keep the clenching of his heart from his voice.

She scooted closer, “Now?”

He bowed his head in affirmation, “If you wish.”

Her pleading look was all the confirmation he needed, “Turn around and relax, just like you did in the clearing.”

Daine complied immediately, closing her eyes though it took some time before she was able to banish her thoughts. Mindful of the way his gift had already started buzzing under his skin, he touched his fingers to her temples. Looking to the center of her, the white light that was her life force, he slowly created the spell.

As he formed the clear wall between her and her magic, the copper light receded into her until it was all contained within her body. The tamer her magic became, the more rebellious his gift was. It fought against him, making it difficult for him to finish the spell. By the time he had finished, he was exhausted. 

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he opened his eyes. The world was alight with veins of color. The stone around them shined with silvered light while the sand beneath them was alight with speckles of bronze and blue. Outside the cave, the roaring ocean was glowing purple and blue with spots of copper.

“Beautiful,” she said as she followed his line of sight.

He turned back to her with a smile, “Let’s test the spell, eh? You see that large patch of copper light in the distance? Those are sea lions. They live in groups like horses and wolves. If you’re going to lose yourself, you should be able to do it with them.”

Daine closed her eyes. After a few moments, she laughed the feather-light laugh of a girl without a care in the world.

“That male is a grouchy one, isn’t he?”

He sighed in relief, “They tend to be extremely protective of their harems. Especially this time of year. The point is, do you suddenly feel the need to dive into the ocean or start eating octopi?”

“What are octopi?” she asked.

He laughed, “I take that as meaning that you’re still Daine?”

“Yes. Now answer the question. What are octopi?”

Standing, he grinned as he offered her a hand up, “Eight-tentacled creatures that live in the ocean. Sea lions eat them, among other things. I’ll be sure to find a book on marine life when we arrive at Pirate’s Swoop. Then all your questions will be answered.”

Daine grinned widely, “I’m looking forward to it.”

He tweaked her nose, “As am I, magelet, as am I.”


	8. The Heart

As a storm settled on the coast, the riders decided to wait out the torrential rain at an abandoned fort nearby. 

During the downtime, Numair was introduced to a whole new Daine. Where she had once been reserved and guarded, she instead poured her heart and soul into her studies. She even laughed more often, openly joking with the trainees.

One evening they were standing on one of the crumbling walls watching the storm, when Daine looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For everything. I’m glad you’re my teacher. I don’t think anyone else would have understood.”

Feeling more than a little awkward under her affectionate gaze, he waved away her gratitude. “Seeing you learn to use your magic is its own reward.” 

She’d blushed at that, and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what finally made you decide to tell me what happened?” he asked.

She sighed playfully, “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

He made a show of pressing his hand to his heart, “Laugh? At you? I would never!”

Daine giggled, “Fine, you silly man. It’s because the badger threatened to knock me head over foot if I didn’t.”

“A badger?” Numair asked soberly.

She nodded, “He visits me in my dreams and this-” she indicated the claw that hung around her throat, “belonged to him. Chewed it right off his paw and gave it to me.”

Numair narrowed his eyes on the silver claw. Only one badger would have silver claws- the badger god. While he’d never personally met the badger, he had met other animal gods, and knew they could be just as meddlesome as their human counterparts.

“Why would a badger want you to talk to me?”

“He kept saying something about running out of time and that he’d promised my Da he’d look out for me.” She shrugged, “Silly isn’t it?”

Her words settled in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. 

“No, it’s not silly. Not silly at all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He waved away her concern, “Nothing, just that if this badger keeps invading your sleep, it must be important.”

“You’re probably right,” Daine admitted.

“I usually am,” he teased.

 

That night, Numair had practically fallen into his bedroll. The news of the Badger had shaken him and he wanted nothing more than a few hours free of his overactive mind.

But he could never be so lucky.

He once more found himself standing on the crumbling wall, looking out over the ocean, but where Daine had been standing before stood the Graveyard Hag instead. He’d almost grown bored of his frequent visits from the goddess, but this time she was speaking to someone other than him.

“See? I told you he was a good choice.”

“I don’t like it,” came the gravelly voice of a rather large badger with silver claws and keen eyes, “I know the games you like to play.”

The Graveyard Hag cackled at the bristling badger, “You worry too much.”

As if just noticing Numair was there, the badger pinned him with a wary look. “You, mortal mage,” The badger pointed one long claw at him, “You’d best take care of my kit. She’s a good girl, but if this one gets her way, she’ll end up playing the great god’s games and I’d rather she stay as far from all that as possible.”

The Graveyard Hag scoffed, “There’s no hope of that. You know as well as I do that the girl has a long path ahead of her. At least with him, she’ll be happier after all is said and done.”

Numair looked away from the quarreling gods and toward the rolling waves, “Don’t worry, Lord Badger, she’s safe with me.”

“Numair?”

He awoke suddenly to the sound of Daine’s voice. Though it was soft, he couldn’t help the alarm that sounded in his foggy brain.

“Daine? Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have an otter here with a broken leg. I was wondering- since I’ve been doing better with the magic and all-”

He quickly waved her into his tent, “Oh, yes, of course. Come in.”

Daine entered, her hair still mussed from her sleep, to sit beside him on his bedroll.

He quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and focused on Daine and her patient. The otter was perfectly calm, looking up at Daine with wholehearted trust.

“Look at me, Daine.” She did, and he held her gaze firmly, “Now, you must go deep inside the injury, seeing beneath the skin to focus directly on the break. You have to will it to heal with all you are so you’ll likely tire quickly, be careful not to overdo it but you also can’t stop. If you do you’ll only do more damage. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and he took a deep breath, calling forth his gift to mingle with hers. 

“Call upon the deepest part of your magic and bring it to bear on the injury,” he instructed, putting the strange occurrence out of his mind to focus on his student.

She did as he said, her magic wrapping itself around the animal’s leg. A long time passed, and he could feel Daine’s mind begin to tire, but she pushed on, willing the bones and muscles to mend until the thought became a reality.

In the same moment that the otter became whole and healthy, Numair broke the connection between them but his gift seemed reluctant to do so, reaching back to try to mingle with her magic once more. Exerting his will over it, he forced it back down.

Daine looked up at him with a wide grin that looked amusing under her drooping eyelids, “Thank you, Numair.”

He managed to snatch the otter from his student’s grasp just before she collapsed. The little furry creature looked at her rescuer with concern.

“Don’t worry, little one. She’ll be alright. How about you?”

The otter wiggled it’s foot experimentally and yipped. Numair carefully set the small creature on the ground and watched it scurry into the night. 

Careful not to disturb his magelet, he tucked her into his bedroll before stepping out into the chilly night air.

As if called, Spots trotted over and laid on the ground. Numair smiled in gratitude as he grabbed a spare blanket from the wagon and laid beside the horse.

Smiling, he went right to sleep.

 

Half the day was over before Daine emerged from the tent, still looking somewhat drained. 

“How was the otter?” she asked amidst a yawn.

“I saw it swim off a while ago. We had lunch while you slept so I saved you some.”

He set aside the quill he had been using to jot notes in the margins of his book and retrieved a plate of meat, cheese, and bread. Daine fell upon the food without any care for etiquette. 

“Gods, I was hungry” she said when she had finished.

“That’s only to be expected. You worked hard.”

“How long did it take?”

He contemplated that for a moment, “A few hours. It was almost dawn by the time you finished.”

She yawned again, and he smiled, “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time for supper.”

Daine nodded and crawled back into his bedroll.

 

Their journey continued the next day but that didn’t stop the girl from practicing her magic as often as she could. Gulls, dogs, even a turtle; no animal was spared at least a short conversation with Daine.

When Daine inadvertently stopped a herd of deer in the middle of the road, it caught the attention of Alanna who pulled back her stallion to ride beside the wagon where Daine and Numair sat, taking turns holding the reins though mangle didn’t need direction.

“You’re learning fast, young one.”

Daine grinned, “I have a good teacher.”

Playfully, he tousled her hair.

“Keep up the good work,” said The Lioness with a smile that could only be described as motherly.

Numair had been about to quiz Daine on the anatomy of a deer when she jumped off the still moving wagon. He called after her but she didn’t seem to hear him as she disappeared into the brush.

Pulling Mangle to a stop, he was about to go after her when she emerged with an injured rabbit in her arms. Smiling in understanding, he suggested riding on Spots rather than the wagon as it would be easier to concentrate without the cart trying to rattle her teeth loose.

She agreed, and he watched as she climbed onto his gelding’s back. As if sensing Daine’s need, Spots moved carefully, avoiding ruts in the road and trying to move as little as possible.

Daine spent hours tending to the rabbit but eventually jumped off the gelding’s back to kneel at the side of the road. Numair smiled as the rabbit bounded off into the forest that edged the ocean cliffs.

Once more, he pulled the wagon to a stop so that she could return to her seat beside him. Before he could offer her any praise, she had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

He let her rest, only gently waking her once they’d reached that night’s camp.

Seeming to be far less drained than she had been when she’d healed the otter, Daine went to work grooming horses and ponies. He helped where he could, but she was so adept at working alone that she moved blindly. When she’d stepped on his foot for the third time, Numair decided to let her be.

Feeling a little tired himself, Numair walked to the cliff’s edge to look out over the scenery. That’s where Alanna found him, a sour expression on her face.

“Oh no,” he said jokingly, “This doesn’t bode well.”

She glared at him, “I just spoke to the king. Apparently, the Carthaki war barges were sighted in international waters yesterday. They aren’t even hiding anymore. Gods be gracious, I hope they stay out there.”

“You and me both,” replied Numair, “but I doubt we’re that lucky. Ozorne is up to something, I can feel it.”

“Yes, well, I wish he’d get on with it. I detest spy games.”

Numair raised an eyebrow at her, “Says the woman who married a spy.”

That finally pulled a smile from her, “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”

“No, I’ve been told I’m very clever.”

Alanna laughed, “You seem in good spirits considering the state of the realm.”

“I can’t take credit. With Daine as a student, it’s hard to be sour for long.”

“She’s an amazing girl,” Alanna agreed, “but you can take some credit. Whatever darkness had a hold of her before seems to have fled.”

He shook his head, “The credit for that goes to her animal friends and one very nosey badger.”

“Badger?” Alanna asked before thinking better of it, “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“No, you probably don’t.”

Alanna clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it then. Goddess willing, we’ll be at Pirate’s Swoop in two days.”

He smiled after his friend before turning back toward the view.

Sometime later he saw Daine move toward the cliff’s edge to settle on a ledge that hung over the water and begin meditating. 

With his magical sight he could see that her power remained close to her body, a small flame compared to its ordinarily blinding glow. She was drained. Meditation would be good for her since it would allow her some rest without the need for near-catatonic sleep.

The white light of her life force snuffed out like a candle in harsh wind.

Numair ran toward her, catching her small body just before her head would have hit the ground. Falling to his knees, he gently set down her lifeless body.

He thrust out his hands and searched for the source of her injury. All he found was void.

Alanna landed beside him heavily, pushing him out of the way. She held out a hand and, to his utter dismay, called down a bolt of purple lightning. 

It struck Diane in the chest. 

Diane’s body convulsed and returned to stillness.

A small voice, the only logical part of him left, told Numair that Alanna was attempting to restart Diane’s heart. The dominant part of him, which was in full panic mode, was screaming that he should be doing something. That, for all his power, he should be able to save his magelet instead of sitting there like a toadstool!

For the first time in years, Numair found himself praying to the great goddess of healing. In fact, he’d take the help of any god that would bring Diane back. The thought of never again hearing her laugh or seeing her smile- he couldn’t even finish the thought, it was so painful.

Alanna called down a second bolt, and Diane’s body convulsed again. 

Daine inhaled sharply as life returned to her small body. She bolted upright, pressing her hand to her chest as she choked on oxygen.

“Are you alright?” Alanna asked.

Diane nodded vigorously in between ragged breaths, murmuring “I think so,” when she had enough air to allow speech.

The sound of Daine’s voice pulled Numair back to himself. His lungs burned as they finally remembered how to breathe. 

He reached out to her, almost afraid that she was a hallucination. 

His fingers brushed her warm shoulder. She was alive, and corporeal, and- and- SO INCREDIBLY STUPID!

“You fiend!” he yelled at her as he gripped her shoulders, “What on Earth possessed you! YOU WERE DEAD! I SHOULD KILL YOU MYSELF!”’

Unable to contain the torrent inside him, he had to be removed from Diane’s side by Sarge when he began shaking her. 

Trying to steady himself, he began to pace. 

“You brought me back?” Diane asked The Lioness, her wide eyes trained on Numair.

Alanna gave the girl a watery smile, “I had to give you a direct jolt to the heart. For a minute there, we thought we’d lost you.”

Numair’s fury boiled anew. There was no “thinking” they had lost Diane, they had. He had. She had been dead, and part of him had died right along with her.

Diane stared at Alanna blankly, “My heart?” Diane frowned, putting together the pieces of some great puzzle in her mind. “It was making too much noise. I couldn’t hear the dolphins.”

Upon hearing Diane’s explanation, he could only look at the sky and incredulously explain to the divine just how ridiculous his magelet was. “Mithros, Mynos, and Shaketh! Do you hear her? She wanted to hear dolphins SO SHE STOPPED HER OWN BLESSED HEART!”

Daine scoffed and waved absently in Numair’s direction, “Goddess be good! He acts like he’s the one who died.”

How dare she be so gods damned cavalier! 

Numair was about to deliver the most vicious verbal thrashing of his life when a hand clasped over his mouth. 

It was Onua.

He tried to shake her off, but she kept him firmly in place. “Not until you can speak without yelling.”

It was Alanna’s turn to talk, her stern tone laced with humor, “Daine, meditation is done for control over the mind and thus over the body. When you are quieting your heart, you’re literally slowing it down. In this case, you slowed it down until it stopped altogether.”

“Well, I won’t do that again,” Daine promised, “I feel like a mule just kicked me in the ribs.”

Alanna chuckled. Was Numair the only one who did not find Daine’s brush with the Black God funny? “Consider it a hard-learned lesson then. Can you stand?”

Daine nodded, and Alanna helped her to her feet. As Numair watched, he took in Alanna’s words. Hard-learned lesson. 

Daine hadn’t realized she could stop her own heart because he’d never told her. 

The realization found him mentally collapsing in on himself. He drew in all the anger until he was cursing his stupidity. Daine was so passionate about her animal friends, she wanted to know everything there was to know about them. He should have known she would exhaust herself in her pursuit of knowledge. It was something he had done many times. Gods forgive him, he was such a fool.

“Will you behave now?” Onua asked from behind him, misinterpreting his falling shoulders for calm. He nodded slowly, and she removed her hand from his mouth.

Satisfied when Numair did not immediately start on his tirade again, she stepped forward to wrap the girl in a gentle hug. When she pulled back, the horse mistress gave Diane a severe look.

“Don’t do that again, young one,” Onua said with concern before offering Daine a teasing smile, “I’d hate to try and find another assistant this time of year.”

Daine gave Onua an exaggerated sigh, “Yes, mum.”

Once Onua, Sarge, and Alanna had gone back toward the tents, Numair stepped forward. He felt a little guilty about the way he had spoken to her but more than that he felt like an idiot. “The next time you are struggling with your magic, come to me. I’m here to help, you know.”

It was those quietly spoken words that finally had Diane looking contrite. “I know,” she murmured.

Without thought, he pulled Diane into a hug and just held her there for a moment. She was warm, soft, and wonderfully alive.

Reluctantly, he let her go and held her at arm’s length. “Are you really alright? I don’t see why you were having problems listening when it seems to come so naturally to you.”

“I was tired,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You were tired,” he repeated, finding the tight control on his voice more and more difficult to maintain as she returned to being aloof about the entire experience. “I see. Well, next time you’re tired, you can try resting for a while.” With a deep breath, he drew his anger back into himself. He had failed her. He owed her a proper explanation so that this never happened again. “If you can’t do that, go where you will get good and chilled or sit in salt water.” He waved toward the sea to make his point, “As you can see, there is a lot of it down there.”

“I don’t get it,” she replied flatly.

“Remember what I said before? Saltwater acts as an amplifier for magic. Cold does the same thing.”

“Oh,” was Daine’s only reply. For a moment she played with her fingers awkwardly and he could tell she wanted to ask something.

“Out with it, Magelet,” he said, his strained patience obvious in his tone.

She seemed to consider her question before she finally looked up and asked, “Do people have visions when they think they’re dead?”

The question shattered the last of his control, “I DON’T KNOW! I’VE NEVER TRIED IT!”

Rather than return his anger, she only sighed, “Well, I can see there is no point in trying to talk to you tonight. Not until you’re out of this mood you’re in.”

“THE MOOD I’M IN!” he roared.

A string of curses, interspaced with complaints about contemptuous attitudes toward death, spilled from his lips and toward the clouds. Just as he was about to target Diane directly, he realized she was walking away from him to join the ponies and horses that were picketed around a tree.

All Numair could do was stare after her, mouth hanging open, as she took a brush and began grooming Cloud. She moved slowly, her eyes glistening as she whispered to her mare.

He snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head. While he focused on his fear and guilt, he’d been unable to see that guarded look in her eyes. 

Letting out the breath he was holding, he turned away.

Some teacher he was turning out to be. Obviously, the Graveyard Hag had put her faith in the wrong man.


	9. Cold

Numair had secluded himself in his tent for most of the evening and well into the next day. It was mostly guilt that kept him there, but the tenuous control he had over his magic was the excuse he used.

After yesterday’s events, he’d found it very difficult to keep his composure, his thoughts continually floating back to Daine. Fear and guilt warred for control inside him, pushing his gift to the surface so that it vibrated under his skin.

He’d been trying, and failing, to meditate when Cloud poked her head through the opening of his tent. The pony’s eyes were more massive than Numair had ever seen them. Daine was on Cloud’s back, her eyes closed against the mare’s mane. The only thing that kept him from fearing the worst was that the girl was shivering violently, her arms huddled against her chest.

The mage jumped to his feet and rushed to her. As soon as he touched her she tried to speak through chattering teeth. The words “stormwings” and “watching” was all she managed.

Numair pushed his fear to the back of his mind and moved to help Daine down from her pony. Cloud caught his eye for a heartbeat before backing out of the tent to stand sentry at the entrance.

Helping Daine to a sitting position, he kneeled in front of her. She was soaked from head to toe and smelling of brine. Taking the extra blanket from where it had been discarded at the end of his bedroll, he wrapped it tightly around her. He rubbed her arms in an attempt to banish the chill that radiated from her.

“Start from the beginning,” he said.

She went over the rather short story in between bouts of bone-deep shivers, “When I was- you know- there was a stormwing that spoke to me before I came back. It was like he was hovering above me and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been watching me. So Cloud and I went down to the water, and I could sense them. There’s a lot of them up there, above the clouds.”

“So you’ve been worried about this since last night? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

She averted her eyes, “You were angry. I thought it would be better if I had more of the facts before saying anything.”

He wanted to kick himself. When had he become such a dolt?

“Daine,” he began, determined to keep his voice even despite the way his heart clenched, “I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at myself. I didn’t warn you about the potential dangers of meditation. You were hurt and it was my fault.”

A small hand reached out from under the blanket to grab his. Daine's fingers were like ice.

“You worry too much,” she said, and he looked up to find her beaming at him. It was an infectious expression that had his lips twisting into a small smile.

“Only about you, my silly magelet.” He waved his free hand at her drenched curls, “And with good reason. Look what happens when I leave you to your own devices. Don’t you know how dangerous hypothermia can be?”

“Hypo-what?”

He sighed and slid his hand from hers to pull the blanket tighter around her, “Getting so cold you make yourself sick.”

He got to his feet and looked down at her with a frown, “I’ll fetch you some dry clothes then I have to talk to Thayet and Alanna.”

She nodded, pulling herself into a ball underneath the blanket. Outside, he found Cloud still waiting.

“She’ll be fine,” he assured the pony, “she’s just cold.”

Cloud’s head fell in relief, but the expression was quickly followed by an exasperated huff. Sharing her relieved frustration, he patted the pony’s neck and went to find Daine’s pack. He took the whole thing back to a grateful Daine before searching out Alanna and Thayet.

As he expected, they were in the commander’s tent talking about mundane matters. They must have recognized the tight expression on his face as they quickly jumped to their feet.

“Numair? What’s wrong?”

“Daine sensed stormwings. She thinks they are hiding from us, high in the clouds. I’m going to walk down to the water and see if I can’t determine what they’re doing up there.”

Onua, who had been sitting in the corner working a bit of tack, looked at Numair with a knowing expression.

He nodded to the horse mistress, “Daine’s in my tent. She damn near turned herself into an icicle trying to determine where the stormwings were.” 

Numair didn’t give Onua a chance to respond to the news before he began the trek down to the water, shedding his boots as soon as he stepped onto the beach. 

Maybe if he’d stopped being a gods damned dolt for a few minutes, he might have saved Daine from a potentially pneumonia-inducing dip in the ocean.

In the water, he sensed them immediately. As Daine had said, there were at least a hundred of them held aloft by stormwing magic. They weren’t doing anything particularly devious, just sitting up there, waiting like a cat at a mouse hole.

Alanna joined him a moment later, stepping into the surf beside him. As soon as she did, she cursed vividly.

“How long have they been up there?” she asked angrily.

“Not long from what I can tell.”

Onua joined them then. When Numair glanced at her, she offered him a soft smile, “Daine’s fine. Tahoi and Cloud are keeping her warm next to the fire.”

Numair nodded and stepped out of the surf. “I should have sensed them sooner.”

“I didn’t sense them either,” said Alanna, trying to console him, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Letting out a long breath, Numair began back toward the camp. Onua and Alanna fell into step beside him.

“I just don’t like how things are adding up,” he said, “stormwings and war barges this close to Pirate’s Swoop? It’s not good.”

Alanna frowned gravely, “I know.”

“I just wish I knew what Ozorne was up to. He isn’t stupid enough to think he’ll win. There has to be something else he’s looking to accomplish.”

“It is my home he’s threatening!” said Alanna angrily, “Call me vain, but I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“There is no such thing as coincidence.”


	10. Treaties

The group moved out at the first light of dawn. Numair stayed in the back with Daine, each of them taking turns reaching out with their magic to make sure the stormwings didn’t make any moves.

They had both been so busy watching the enemy above that they didn’t realize what was happening on the ground. The ordinarily bustling village of Buzzard Rocks was wholly abandoned.

Eyeing each other nervously, they hopped down from the wagon to join Alanna, Thayet, Onua, Sarge, and Buri in their search. They stepped into the local tavern to find half-eaten food on the tables, surrounded by flies.

“It’s like they disappeared,” said Onua.

“There isn’t even any livestock left behind,” said Daine her eyes distant as she listened to her surroundings.

“No,” said Thayet as she peered into the cellar, “they left in a hurry but not so quickly they didn’t have a chance to pack every bit of precious they had. See? The wine barrels are gone.”

Suddenly, Daine hissed and clapped her hands over her ears.

Numair and Onua were next to her in a heartbeat, Numair steadying the girl as she threatened to crumble under whatever sound was assaulting her senses.

Outside, someone screamed.

Numair glanced at Daine then to Onua. The horse mistress nodded, and Numair followed the others outside.

Above, winged lions with taloned forepaws and heads like eagles gilded overhead, their shadows falling over the abandoned town menacingly. Griffins.

“Weapons!” cried Thayet and everyone grabbed their bows, swords, and javelins. Numair called forth his gift, letting it pulse in the palms of his hands. The creatures banked, diving toward the humans. Archers loosed but the beasts easily dodged the expertly aimed arrows. 

Daine sprinted from the inn and into the line of attack.

“STOP!” she yelled with wide eyes, “It’s not what you think!” 

She waved her hands in the air as if trying to get everyone’s attention.

The Griffins, amazingly, broke off their attack.

Numair seemed to be the only who noticed the change in the great creatures, as new arrows were notched and aimed. In an instant, those same arrows were broken between jaws of flat teeth. Pony turned on rider, standing between human and Griffin in defiance.

“Listen to me!” Daine yelled up to the sky. One of the Griffins, the largest one, tilted its head at her curiously. Flapping its wings, it descended to land scant feet from the girl. It squawked, and the girl clapped her hands over her ears even though the noise was no louder than that of a typical eagle cry. 

Gritting her teeth, Daine forced her hands to her sides so that she could look up at the great creature. “Sorry,” she said between labored breaths, “You’re too loud. I can barely understand.”

The creature thrust its beak into the air arrogantly.

Alanna, astride her stallion, came up beside Daine. Her sword was sheathed, but she held her great shield up in a defensive gesture. The Griffin looked at the shield and squawked loudly.

Daine nearly collapsed under the force of the sound. Numair was next to her in a moment, catching Daine just as her knees would have buckled. Large golden eagle-eyes watched him warily as he helped Daine back to her feet so that she could address the griffin once more.

“Please. Don’t yell. It hurts.” She was panting as she spoke, sweat sliding down her face.

“What is he saying?” The Lioness demanded, her face a war of anger and concern.

Daine steeled herself and said, “I’m trying to understand, but it’s hard.”

Bringing forth the sight, Numair immediately saw the problem. The Griffin seemed to be pulling magic directly from Daine. Meanwhile, other tendrils of her magic shot out in a hundred directions to touch every animal in a twenty-foot radius.

“Relax,” he told her softly, “take a deep breath and focus.”

She did so, and he could see the loose tendrils of her magic pull back into her until only the connection with the griffin was left.

“Good. You can do this, just go easy.”

Daine nodded, straightening her shoulders and looking up at the Griffin.

“Where are the villagers?” she asked. The griffin squawked but Daine remained firm. “He says that they only scared them away. No one was harmed.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe.” said Alanna, “Young lady, you’d better not be lying to protect them.”

The Griffin cried, seeming to understand The Lioness’ words. Daine easily translated.

“I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to. He says griffins can’t lie and neither can lies be told around them. He’s surprised we don’t know that.”

“Griffins haven’t been in the mortal realms for hundreds of years. In that amount of time information can be lost,” Numair explained to the Griffin.

“Apparently, that’s why they don’t like shields,” said Daine, “He says too many griffins were captured on human shields.”

Frowning, Alanna opened her mouth, but nothing happened. When she closed her mouth again, a smirk ghosted across her lips before her stormy expression returned and she looked down at the girl. “Alright, but I still want to know why they decided to scare the villagers away,”

The Griffin waved a talon toward the cliffs. Daine followed the motion, “They have nestlings up there.”

“You say that as if it explains something,” Alanna grumbled.

“Doesn’t it?” said Numair, “I’m assuming that when he says that griffins were captured on shields, he means that our ancestors used to tie young griffins on their shields. Can you imagine? Having people be unable to lie around you? I can see the benefit.” Seeing that the griffin was eyeing him suspiciously, he added, “Not that I condone the stealing of nestlings.”

Thayet had joined them at some point but chose that moment to ask what the griffins ate.

“Fish, large ones, seals and dolphins,” said Daine.

“Not livestock?” asked the queen.

“No. They say grass eaters taste bad.” 

Thayet let out a long breath and addressed the griffin with all the authority of her position, “Then will you allow the villagers to return as long as I swear that no one will hurt your young?”

The griffin squawked angrily and Daine winced but said, “She’s our queen. The villagers will listen to her.”

Eyeing Thayet for a long time, the griffin ultimately nodded his agreement.

“Good,” said Alanna and finally lowered her shield.

The Griffin looked at Daine again. She seemed to listen for a moment before turning to Alanna and Thayet, “He just wants to be clear. If any human comes near their nests, they are within their rights to hurt them?”

Thayet sighed, “I can hardly fault them for wishing to protect their young, but I would prefer if they didn’t attack wayward villagers.” She looked at the Griffin, “But if a human tries to harm you, you are well within your rights to defend yourselves.”

The Griffin bowed its head and then flapped its great wings to ascend, flying back toward the high cliffs.

Daine didn’t watch them go, turning to Numair with a watery smile. It was then that he realized she had been gripping his arm to stay steady and was only then letting him go. 

“Thank you,” she murmured almost contritely.

Numair smiled back to reassure her there was no harm done despite the fact that he would likely have bruises where her fingers had dug into his flesh, “No thanks required.”

Thayet and Alanna, visibly unnerved by the encounter with the Griffins, ordered the trainees to make camp.

As Thayet passed Daine, she pinned the girl with a chiding gaze, “Once you're rested, young one, we need to have a long talk about using your magic to turn our mounts on us.”

Daine’s eyes widened despite her tiredness, “I didn’t- I mean-”

Numair placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder and addressed Thayet in her stead, “It’s hardly fair to portray it that way, your majesty. Daine’s control is amazing for one with such power, but she can’t always stop animals from knowing her thoughts. I truly believe she had no conscious intention to turn your mounts on you.”

“Conscious or not,” replied Thayet, “the riders must be able to trust their ponies. If we can’t do that with her around, she won’t be able to stay.”

Daine’s head bowed to hide the hurt in her eyes, “I understand.”

Without another word, Thayet walked toward the other commanders. 

His expression turning stormy, Numair went to go after the queen but Alanna stepped into his path.

“Numair, you know she didn’t mean it. She likes Daine, but she’s K’miri. Without her horse, she feels powerless. No matter the crown she wears. Just let her cool off, and I’m sure she’ll apologize.”

“She’s right though,” said Daine, tears in her voice, “It’s dangerous for the riders to have me around. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

Alanna had moved to embrace Daine before Numair could even blink, “Don’t think like that, young one. I won’t lie to you, it’s not good if the ponies are listening to you instead of their riders, but I don’t think you would let anyone be hurt. Consciously or unconsciously. Alright?”

Daine nodded, but tears began falling down her cheeks. Alanna saw them and started walking Dane toward the camp. “Come, I’ll get you to your bedroll. Everything will look better after you get some sleep.”

Soon Numair was left alone with nothing but clenched fists and impotent anger. 

Black fire made his arms tingle. He needed to take a VERY long walk and meditate. Otherwise, he was likely to do or say something he would regret.

 

The next day Daine was still looking somewhat dejected as she tended to the wagon.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, trying to inject a bit of lightness into his tone.

“Fine,” she replied, her voice hollow.

He sighed, “Still worried about what the queen said?”

Daine shrugged, “She came and apologized for being angry with me, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering what would happen if we were attacked. Would the ponies come to protect me? Is my being here putting people in danger?”

“Of course not,” replied Numair confidently, “Gods only know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there to speak to the Griffins. Frankly, I’m glad the ponies stopped the riders from attacking. It could have quickly escalated into a bloodbath.”

Daine looked at her feet, kicking a pebble, “That’s what Alanna said, but maybe it would be better if I found work somewhere else.”

He shrugged, “If you’d like you could come stay at my tower, or I’m sure Alanna would let you stay on at Pirate’s Swoop. If that’s what you want.”

Daine sighed, “That’s not what I want. I like being with the riders.”

“Then it’s simple, magelet, stay with the riders.”

“But-”

Numair pinched the bridge of his nose, less out of exasperation and more to hide his anger with the queen over putting these thoughts in his student’s head. “Alanna and I didn’t say what we did to make you feel better. We said it because it’s true. You shouldn’t run away from what makes you happy out of fear of what MIGHT happen.” Letting his hand fall away, he smiled softly at her, “We aren’t those idiots you lived within that village. We aren’t going to turn on you because of something you have no control over.”

Daine seemed to mull that over for a long moment before finally giving her teacher a tight-lipped smile, “Thank you, Numair.”

He rolled his eyes comically, “Please stop being so grateful. It sets a bad precedent. Being a teacher is supposed to be a completely thankless profession.”

She giggled at that, “Yes, Master Salmalin.”

He frowned jokingly, “Now don’t start with that.”

“No, no, Master Salmalin, you can’t have it both ways!”

He tweaked her nose, “Of course I can, magelet. I’m Numair Salmalin- juggling master of magic!”

Her laugh echoed off the cliff sides, warming his heart with each reverberation.


	11. Towers and Birds

Just after noon, both Pirate’s Swoop and Numair’s tower became visible on the horizon. Just seeing his home, made the mage smile. It was a simple affair from the outside, a tall round structure that started broad at the base and got smaller as it went up. Inside though, it sported a library that had taken him years to curate and took up an entire three floors. At the top was his bedroom, furnished with the biggest bed he could find.

He pointed out his tower to Daine and, though she smiled, a deep sadness entered her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only be a little ways away. Besides, you’re going to be visiting me there often over the summer.”

“I am?”

He chuckled, “Of course. I still have much to teach you, my magelet.”

When he separated from the group to travel down the road toward his home, Daine waved him off with a smile and his promise to find her at Pirate’s Swoop soon. 

He’d gotten halfway to his tower when he turned Spots to see Daine still sitting at the wagon’s helm but instead of looking forward, her head hung forward dejectedly.

Part of him wanted to go back, but rationality won out, forcing him to continue home.

The world was turning orange with evening sun when he entered the small stable that Spots called home. After taking care of the gelding and giving him an extra ration of grain for being the magnificent animal that he was, Numair went directly to his library.

Falling heavily into a large overstuffed chair, he let the smells of parchment and leather overtake him. Typically, no matter how tumultuous the world was, he always felt at peace surrounded by his books but his ears rung from the silence provided by stone walls and insulated by wooden shelves.

It didn’t take him long to deduce the problem. Daine wasn’t there.

Even when they weren’t speaking with griffins or fighting off stormwings, there were always animals around her scurrying, chattering, and chirping. His stone walls were almost confining after such an experience.

He stood and went to open one of the windows. The ocean breeze tousled his unruly black hair as he looked out over the water. Among the waves, dolphins and whales broke the surface and sent puffs of water vapor into the air.

A small black bird landed on the window ledge and chirped at him.

“Hello there,” he said to the little bird. Its head cocked this way and that as if searching for something before it flew off as quickly as it came.

Sighing, he left the window open as he went to search his packs for the book on wild magic that had also become his journal. He flipped it open to a random page and took in the notes he had scribbled in the margins. Without being in proximity to his magelet, the words seemed like they’d been written by someone else. They were analytical, speaking monotonously about the girl with the wild magic.

Snapping the volume shut, he found a place for it on the shelf and headed to bed. A good night’s sleep was all he needed. In the morning his head would be clear and he’d be able to think.

Hundreds of birds chirped and squawked noisily, quickly pulling Numair from his sleep.

He’d left the window open during the night with a spell to keep the heat in but he should have added an extra layer to keep things out. Owls, sparrows, crows and a dozen other birds were perched on every available surface of his bedroom, staring at him as if he were somehow interesting. 

Near the center of the congregation, a lone bird had perched atop a wooden desk chair covered in dirty shirts.

No mundane perch could detract from its beauty, its silver feather reflecting the light of the early morning across the room, bathing everything gold.

Intelligent black eyes met his and his heart stopped.

“Preet?”

The mythical sunbird bird flew across the room to land on his shoulder. With a hand that shook, he reached up to stroke Preet’s soft head. Chirping musically, she rubbed her crown against his cheek. 

It was a language that required no translation for the man who had once been Arram Draper, a boy studying at the academy in Carthak. Arram had raised the bird at the behest of Enzi- the crocodile god of the Zakoi River and even Preet’s return to the divine realms couldn’t change the bond they shared.

“I missed you too but, Gods, Preet, what are you doing here?”

The sunbird trilled in his ear. It was a familiar sound, a warning.

He frowned at the bird, and it ruffled its feathers before flying to the window where it met a small black bird. The birds twittered at each other for a moment before Preet turned her attention back to Numair.

Sliding from under the covers, he followed Preet and that was when he sensed it- or rather didn’t sense it. 

The stormwings were gone.

“Daine,” he said aloud without meaning to. Preet chirped in question and Numair smiled down at her. “If anyone would know where the Storwings went, it would be my new friend Daine.” 

Preet chirped her understanding, her brilliant eyes smiling at him.

Numair moved to find fresh clothes and head down the stairs toward the stable.

“Come on, Preet,” he called over his shoulder. When the bird didn’t follow, he turned.

The tremendously beautiful bird shook her head, and he immediately felt like a fool.

“Of course. You can’t stay. You have to go home.”

Preet nodded.

He sighed heavily, a renewed loneliness seeping into his bones. Preet flew over to land on his shoulder and began preening his hair.

“Don’t apologize. I understand. Though I wish you could meet Daine, she would absolutely love you.”

Preet trilled and spread her wings in an arrogant gesture. Numair laughed and petted the bird a final time.

“Thank you, pretty bird,” he said softly.

She bowed her head regally before taking flight. Gliding out his window, the last Numair saw of Preet was the wink of light reflecting off the sunbird’s mirror-like feathers.

Taking a deep breath, Numair continued down the steps toward the stable.

“We need to get to Daine as quickly as we can,” Numair said to Spots as he placed the saddle on the gelding’s back.

Spots didn’t need to know any more than that. As soon as Numair landed in the saddle, the gelding took off at such a gallop that the mage almost fell.

Once they reached the gate of Pirate’s Swoop, it swung open to admit him. Spots didn’t so much as slow for the gate guard who came to meet them, skidding to a stop at the stable door. 

Numair dismounted as he called into the opening for Daine. She came out with Onua in tow.

“Numair? Is something wrong?” asked the horse mistress.

“We have to find the stormwings,” he told her in a rush.

Daine’s brow furrowed, “Aren’t they up there being sneaky?”

He shook his head, “They’re gone.”

Onua cursed vividly but moved to gather Spot’s reins, “I’ll send someone to get Alanna and George.”

Numair nodded his thanks and turned to head for the observation deck, his magelet right on his heels. After a moment he realized she was having to jog to keep up with him and halved his pace so she could fall into step beside him.

“You think the stormwings are going to try to attack Pirate’s Swoop?” Daine asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. All I know is that if they’ve disappeared, that means something is about to happen, and I have a feeling it won’t be anything good.”

The morning had turned to early evening before Numair angrily shoved his crystal ball into its satin pouch and tied it to his belt with fumbling fingers.

“You’re not getting anything, either?” asked Alanna, exasperation in her tone as she too lowered the rose-painted mirror that she had been using to scrye.

“Not a damn thing,” he replied.

“Me neither,” said Daine. Even though her eyes were still closed, the tentacles of her magic reached in a dozen different directions, “I can’t sense them anywhere.”

“I don’t like it,” said Alanna, “I mean, I’m far from an expert at scrying but if you two aren’t getting anything- well, I don’t like what it adds up to.”

Numair had to agree. The swirling fog that had permeated his crystal ball meant only one thing, other mages with potent blocking spells.

“So, it’s official, dey’ve given us the bag,” said George as he ascended the steps.

Just a glance at the man told the story of someone far too clever for his own good. His grassy eyes twinkled with mischief, and his mouth seemed to be permanently raised in a knowing smirk.

“It appears so,” replied Numair, still fuming.

“Sorry bastards,” said the baron, his displeasure coming through in the increasing lilt of his thick brogue, “I wish we could nab one of dese beasties. Bet I’d figure out deir clever plans quick den.”

“Not to poke holes,” said Alanna, rolling her eyes, “but even if we could capture one, how would we hold it long enough for you to extract anything useful?”

The smile that found its way onto George’s lips was so icy, Daine shivered. “I’m sure ya gifted folk could come up wid somethin’.”

Numair rubbed his forehead, “That’s hardly the issue at hand. Even if we wanted to capture one, we’d have to know where they are. Which, brings us back to the original question of where they went and why.”

George clapped Numair on the shoulder, “Dere’s no point stewin' on it, me friend. De game’ll be revealed in time.”

Numair could only glare, “As a spymaster, I would have thought you’d know the value of information.”

George laughed, “I do. I also know dat de man focused on a knife at his throat don't see de dagger at his back.”

“He’s trying to say we’re worrying too much,” said Alanna as she passed George a sideways look.

George moved to wrap his arms around his tense wife. “Dere ain’t much we can do but wait, luv.”

“I hate waiting,” grumbled Alanna even as she leaned into her husband’s embrace.

Numair let his frustration go with a sigh, “As annoying as it is, waiting is a wise choice. Any offensive moves at this point would be a waste of resources.”

Alanna nodded grudgingly, “You’re right.”

Feeling more than a little useless, Numair began down the stairs only to have Daine fall into step beside him.

“You’re still gonna worry, aren’t you?” she asked, “Even after what you said?”

He glanced over to see Daine frowning at her feet. The girl was getting far too good at reading him.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should. Whatever is happening, it has little to do with you.”

“But isn’t that why you agreed to teach me? So that I could help fight the immortals?”

Numair stopped in his tracks. 

Daine stopped a few steps ahead, turning a questioning frown at him. 

Numair pinned his student with a glare. “That is why Jonathan wanted me to teach you, but I agreed to do so because you deserved to learn what you could do with your power. I don’t want you fighting anything.”

“Why not?” she asked indignantly, “I can fight just as well as anyone.”

Part of him knew that there was no rebuttal to her argument, but he searched for one anyways, “That is hardly the point, Daine.”

“Then what is the point?” she asked, her octave not rising but her anger coming through in the way her smokey eyes flashed.

“Uncle Numair!”

He was saved from what would have probably been an utterly nonsensical response by three children who had come running across the yard. The prince, Roald, and Alanna’s oldest, Thom, crashed into his legs, hugging him although neither of them was taller than mid-thigh. 

He patted each of their heads in greeting, “Hello, children.”

“Oh, we missed you during the spring! It was so boring!” exclaimed the princess Kalasin as she bounced up behind the boys.

“Did you bring your juggling balls, the glass ones?” asked Thom excitedly.

All three of them lit with anticipation, craning their necks to smile at him.

“They’re at my tower,” he promised before frowning down at the basket that Kalasin was carrying. Something inside it was moving.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice authoritative.

“We found him near the back wall!” said Roald, his face becoming sad for a heartbeat as he moved to lift the basket lid.

Inside was an osprey with a painfully twisted leg. Numair looked up to find Daine was already reaching into the basket. Any anger she harbored toward her teacher had vanished at the appearance of the wounded animal.

“Oh goodness,” said Daine as she carefully pulled the bird from the basket, “how did you do this, sir osprey?”

The bird eyed Daine warily but made no move to fight her hold.

“You’re Miss Daine, right? You can heal him?” asked Thom hopefully.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” she said to the children before she began toward the stable. Immediately abandoning Numair, the three children fell in behind her. 

It took Daine a moment to realize she was being followed but when she glanced back she was more than a little confused.

“Uh, you can go back to, um, to your nursemaid or whoever it is that looks after you. The Osprey will be fine with me,” Daine tried to tell the children.

“We want to see,” said Roald, his puppy-like eyes causing Daine to frown.

Daine looked to Numair in a plea for help. Far too entertained by her bewilderment, Numair only shrugged in reply. 

“Please?” asked Thom.

Daine looked between the children, her discomfort waring against the power of those innocent and curious eyes. It was a battle she was doomed to lose.

“But it’ll be boring,” she said in the last effort to deter them.

“We won’t bother you,” said Kalasin, speaking for all three children as only she could, “We promise.”

Numair couldn’t stifle his laugh in time, having to clap a hand over his mouth to keep it contained as the children stared up at her hopefully.

Daine sighed, “Fine. But not a peep, alright? I can’t be distracted.”

Three heads bobbed in agreement.

Soundly defeated by three children, Daine turned and continued toward the stable.

Numair was still chuckling as he headed for the kitchens. If he was going to throw his magelet to the wolves, he’d at least make sure she had something to eat.

When Daine met Numair at the gate the next afternoon, the children were trailing behind her.

“Uh, Daine? I think you have a tail,” Numair joked.

“The queen called them my ducklings,” she told him, not finding the situation nearly as amusing as he did.

“They’re more akin to monkeys,” he tousled Thom’s hair playfully, “Following tendency notwithstanding.”

“I’m not a monkey,” said Roald indignantly.

Numair smiled as he bowed deeply to the boy, “I apologize, my prince. I forgot that you are far better at climbing trees than any mere monkey.”

The boy smiled up at Numair, “You think so?”

He tweaked the boy’s nose, “I know so. The way you climbed that oak behind the palace, well, I’ve never seen anyone with such skill.”

Roald stood a little taller.

“Unfortunately, magelet, your little friends must return home as we are going beyond the wall.”

The children groaned but dutifully headed toward the castle, hanging their heads. Daine looked after them sadly for a moment before turning to Numair, a weight lifting from her shoulders. He furrowed his brow at her sudden lightness, and she explained. “They’re so sweet, but I feel like I’m walking around broken glass, afraid to say the wrong thing and scare them,” she huffed, “Not that you’ll know what I’m talking about. You always know what to say.”

“Not always,” he said with a chuckle as he led her toward the stable, “I didn’t yesterday.”

She turned wide eyes on him, taken aback by his willingness to bring up the subject of their interrupted argument. What she didn’t know was that he’d spent most of the day torturing himself over his ill-advised words. 

He looked away, busying his hands by adjusting Spot’s bitless bridle. “I wasn’t trying to say that you don’t know how to take care of yourself. I’m aware that you are perfectly competent when it comes to combat arts, but I want you to know that you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. Whatever you decide to fight or not fight, that’s your prerogative. You aren’t beholden to anyone.”

Daine petted Cloud absently, “A home is something worth fighting for, don’t you think?”

Her words, spoken quietly and dense with meaning, brought an unconscious smile to his face. “I can think of few things worthier.”

“Well, if that’s settled, why don’t you tell me where we’re going?”

“To my tower,” he said as he finished saddling Spots, “As the baron of a seaside fief I expected George to have at least one decent book on ocean life but imagine how appalled I was to find only a book on spearfishing techniques!”

Daine mounted cloud as she chuckled, “How thoughtless of him.”

“That’s what I said!” replied Numair in mock indignation.

Daine lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Tell the truth. You read the book on fishing didn’t you?”

Lifting his nose to the air, he said, “Of course I did. You never know when information like that could be useful.”

Daine shook her head at him despite her wide grin, “You are hopeless.”

Numair seemed to contemplate her words for a short moment, “You’re probably right.”

When they reached his tower, Numair was once more filled with a sense of homecoming. So much so that he’d failed to shorten his stride, causing poor Daine to jog to keep up with him.

He threw open the door and smiled as Daine gasped at the sight.

“By the goddess,” she whispered, “Have you read them all?”

Numair looked at her in a false offense, “Of course I have. I could never resist the temptation of having an unread book within reach. Gods, my palms itch just thinking about it.”

Sobering, he pointed to a set of shelves on the second level, “That is where all my books on animal studies are. Help yourself. I just have to find some fresh clothing.”

When Numair returned from his bedroom with a pack it was to find that Daine was no longer at the section designated for animal studies. She had descended the stairs and was pulling a book from one of the shelves, a leather-bound volume with no title branded on it. Before he could stop her, she had turned to the first page.

“Its blank,” she murmured and began flipping through the pages, “They’re all blank. I could have sworn-”

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to remain casual despite his own confusion.

She glared down at the tome, “This book, it was whispering to me. Like my friends do but different. Quieter. I could barely hear it.”

Numair removed the book from her hands, opening it. As usual, there were drawings and words printed in ink on every page. Not to mention his handwritten notes, which had been the actual source of his nervousness when he’d seen her pick up the book.

“But I don’t get, why would an empty book be whispering to me?”

“Because it's my journal,” he told her. He wasn’t completely lying, but it was enough that he immediately felt guilty, “Its been magicked to appear blank to anyone but me. I suppose the spell on it could have been what you were hearing.”

Daine, with her hard-won but absolute trust in him, readily accepted his explanation, “That makes sense.”

Afraid the guilt eating away at the pit of his stomach would make its way to his face, he quickly walked past the girl and shoved the book into his pack. What was the point of lying? Why wouldn’t he just tell her the truth?

That was when he felt it, the slight buzz in the air. Magic, the kind that could only belong to a meddling goddess with a penchant for gambling. Damn that Graveyard Hag. She’d just forced to him lie.

“Did you find the book on marine life?” he asked her, in lieu of drawing attention to his sudden anger. 

“Yes, it’s on the table,” she told him, indicating the dark blue covered volume.

Attempting to smile, he brought a chair over to the table and held it out for her. She furrowed her brow at him but sat anyways.

“We have some time before we’ll have to return to the castle so we can study a bit then meditate when we return.”

Daine nodded slowly, watching him warily as he pulled up a second chair for himself.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded, “Of course I am. Why?”

“You just seem, I don’t know, annoyed? Did I do something?”

“No, magelet. I’m not upset with you. I’m annoyed at myself.”

“Why?”

He waved away the question, “It’s not important. Why don’t we get started?”

Numair opened the book on marine life to the first page where an artist had drawn a humpback whale with pieces cut away to reveal bone, organs, and muscle at different sections. As they went through the pages filled with drawings and detailed explanations, Daine kept sneaking glances at him. He made sure to keep his face blank.

He’d deal with the illustrious Lady of the South later.


	12. Oaths

That evening, as they approached the fortress’ gate, a thin boy on a sweat-streaked pony sped past them.

Teacher and student only needed to glance at each other before they urged their mounts into a trot. They arrived in the courtyard just in time to see the boy leap from his horse with a scroll in his hand. The parchment was wrapped in red ribbon and stamped with the seal of a nearby lord.

“I have a message for The Lioness!” the boy called, panting.

Numair got off Spots and handed Daine his reins.

“Come with me,” he told the messenger.

The boy dutifully followed as Numair led him into the castle. As expected, he found Alanna in her study, pouring over reports from the rider trainees who had been scouting beyond the walls. When Numair entered with the messenger in tow, the atmosphere turned solemn. The messenger made to say something, but Alanna cut him off.

“Give it here, boy.”

Handing over the scroll, the boy bowed.

Alanna broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, then cursed. She eyed the messenger warily.

“Where is your lord now?”

The messenger averted his eyes, “Dead, my lady. They killed him when they broke through the gate. I saw it from the cliff. I’m afraid that if you don’t hurry, they will find a way into the keep.” The boy swallowed hard, “The young lady is there with my master knight.”

Alanna patted the young man on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, my boy, we’ll get there before anything happens to the young lady. Go to the kitchens and eat. You’ll need your strength if you’re to return with us.”

“Yes, my lady, thank you,” he replied, bowing deeply and backing out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Alanna cursed vividly. “Ogres! I told that damned fool if he was too cheap to hire men to arm his people but, no! We can’t do that! What if they decide to throw off their idiotic lord! Now he’s dead! What good is gold to a dead man?”

“Well, if you believe as the-”

Alanna glared at the mage who had dared to speak so calmly, “Don’t you even start!”

“Well, you know me. I default to bookish when taxed.”

Alanna sighed, letting go of her temper at the concerned look on her friend’s face. “The timing is too perfect,” she said quietly.

Numair agreed, “But we both know you won’t leave those people at the mercy of ogres.”

The Lioness crossed the room in three strides to take Numair’s hands between her own, “You’ll watch over my family while I’m gone?”

“You know I will. Why even ask?” he said, trying to ease her fears with a smile.

“Thank you, Numair. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.”

“Of course you could have but the gods, in all their twisted humor, gave you me.”

Alanna chuckled, though the sound lost its mirthfulness under the weight of her duty.

She took a fortifying breath before pulling away to visibly cloak herself in the persona of the king’s champion.

“I’d better gather the men. George is not going to be happy.”

“No, but he knew who he married.”

“Too true.”

Numair followed Alanna out of the study and went to find Daine. He saw her in the stable, her ducklings helping her care for Spots and Cloud. Thom was brushing the pony, his movements slow and melancholy. When the boy saw Numair’s drawn expression, he sighed more profoundly than any six-year-old had a right to.

“Mama’s leaving again, isn’t she?”

Numair nodded. The boy’s brushing hand fell to his side. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve to keep his tears at bay.

Daine glanced at Numair sadly before going to the boy, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“I know,” replied Thom, “I’m not a baby. I won’t cry or anything.”

“There’s a brave, lad,” said Daine, “And look, you did a fine job with Cloud. Not a spot missed. I think you’ve earned yourself a visit with the seals.”

“Can we come too?” asked Roald.

“Of course,” replied Daine and looked up to Numair with false exasperation, “You’ll want to come too, I s'pose.”

He pasted on a smile for the children’s sake, “Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his assertion to the contrary, he didn’t join them in the surf, preferring to stand at the top of the beach to watch Daine introduce the children to the seals. They played with the shiny creatures, giggling as they splashed seawater at each other. Like Numair, Thom stood apart from the others.

The boy would pet the seals, but his eyes kept flicking to the castle gate to watch for the inevitable moment when his mother would leave. 

That moment arrived all too soon.

Alanna emerged with twelve men at her back, her full plate armor winking in the sunlight that had peaked from between the clouds. She pulled up beside Numair and looked at her son, who had frozen where he stood in the sand.

The Lioness, no longer a knight but a mother, slid from her saddle and hung her sword and shield on the pommel. The movement was like a signal to the small boy who ran to throw himself into his mother’s arms, careful not to hurt himself on her armor. After hugging him tightly, she pulled back to hold him at arm's length.

“You know Fief Mandash?” she asked him softly.

The boy nodded.

“Well, they were attacked by ogres. I have to go help.”

“But mama, ogres are huge,” said the boy, his fear seeping into his voice.

“The biggest one is eight feet. That isn’t so big,” Alanna touched her finger to his nose, “and I’ll have my men with me, all right?”

She hadn’t done much to lessen his fears, but Thom put on a brave face and nodded. She tried to smile, playfully tousling his hair. “Give me a kiss for luck?”

The boy did so, his lips lingering on his mother’s cheek. She hugged him a final time just as Daine, the prince, and the princess had joined them.

“Thank you for doing your duty,” said Kalasin sadly, the perfect image of a young lady as she curtsied. Alanna bowed to her before hugging her too. Roald joined them, managing to wrap his small arms around both Alanna and his sister. Alanna patted his back soothingly.

Standing, she looked to Daine and offered the young woman her hand. Daine took it with a forced smile.

“Should I go with you, Lioness? Since it’s immortals, I might be helpful.”

Alanna appreciated the gesture but ultimately shook her head, “You’re needed here. Someone needs to keep this one in line.”

She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Numair.

“Don’t worry,” said Daine, moving to stand beside her teacher, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“I might be offended,” said Numair playfully, reaching over to tousle Daine’s hair.

Taking Numair’s right hand in her left and Daine’s left in her right, Alanna looked at them both with a plea in her eyes, “Stay vigilant, you two.”

“We will, Lioness,” said Daine. It was an oath, one that she didn’t take lightly.

“Thank you,” Alanna murmured. With a final squeeze, she let them go and remounted her stallion. 

They turned to watch Alanna ride off but as The Lioness disappeared over the horizon, Daine grabbed Numair’s hand. He looked at her with a reassuring smile to see that Thom was holding her other hand, gripping it like a lifeline.

The icy wind of doubt swept through him, nearly making his heart stop. Then Daine squeezed his hand softly. 

At that moment, with his magelet’s quiet support, he could have conquered the world.


	13. The Assault

George sat at his desk, frowning down at his latest reports. Numair watched him, leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed. Night had settled on Pirate’s Swoop, the only time when Numair and George could discuss the worst of the news without worrying the others.

“You can’t tell me you’re surprised,” remarked Numair, his voice hollow, “We knew something like this would happen the moment Alanna was called away.”

George’s green eyes snapped fire, “That don’t make it right. My wife should be wid her children, not barricaded behind some walls waitin' for a freak storm ta peter out.”

“Whoever is playing black in this chess game obviously wanted Alanna off the board. They’ve succeeded, we need to focus on those here.”

“Ya right,” said George with a heavy sigh, “I’ve called in de people from da village, and I’ve doubled de wall guard. Beyond dat dough, dere ain’t much ta do.”

Then the door flew open. George and Numair looked toward the threshold to find Daine there, bats hanging from every surface of her upper body.

“What’s all dis?” exclaimed George, though only his voice spoke of his astonishment.

“Please don’t startle them,” said Daine as she walked carefully into the room, “They’re scared enough as it is.”

Numair saw the fear Daine spoke of reflected on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Her wide eyes caught him, “The bats came to warn me. There’s men, soldiers, sneaking through the forest.”

“How many?” asked George.

Daine was silent for a moment, conversing with her riders, “They think somewhere around five hundred. Do you have a map?”

George waved toward a table which held a large map of Pirate’s Swoop and its surrounding lands. The girl went to it, using colored stones to mark different areas as she spoke, “They’re spread out but moving steadily. From what the bats saw they’re coming from here, here, and here.”

Suddenly she cursed as she saw the completed picture. Numair didn’t need to see it to know the soldiers had formed a semi-circle around the back of the Castle. It was a familiar strategy, one that Ozorne had lauded as the perfect formation for a seaside fortress because when combined with-

“Warbarges,” whispered Numair.

His feet moved of their own volition, taking him to the observation deck. George joined him shortly after with a spyglass. Not that they needed one to see the danger on the horizon.

A fog was crawling toward the castle at a rate far superior to natural fog. It rolled in a perfectly straight line, clouding the horizon in a haze.

“What's dat?” asked George, his voice tight.

Numair reached out with his gift, but as soon as he touched the fog, he felt his magic retreat back to him.

“Dampening spells, a lot of them,” said Numair.

George cursed, “Damned bastards. Can ya break trough dem?”

Numair shook his head, his stomach a rolling pit of anxiety, “I won’t know until the fog hits us, which at the rate it’s traveling should be at dawn.”

Daine emerged from the stairs then, no longer covered in bats, “I spoke to the owls. The men have settled.”

“Waitin’ fur dawn,” said George through gritted teeth.

Numair looked to Daine, “Can you have the owls let us know when the men start to move again?”

She nodded.

George nodded too in gratitude as he moved past her to call down to the captain of the night guard, “Wake Maude and tell her ta ready de meds. Den rouse anyone dat can hold a weapon. I’ll need a good countin' of defenders in de hour.”

The captain saluted and left to disseminate orders. 

Numair reached out, calling out with a speaking spell to summon both Alanna and the king.

“It’s started,” he told them, his grave voice conveying far more than he wanted to.

“We’re still trapped in this blasted storm,” said Alanna, her voice hot with anger.

“I deployed men to support you as soon as Alanna was called away but they won’t be there for another two days,” said Jonathan, his voice tight.

“By then, it’ll be too late,” said Numair, “They’ve got dampening spells that will overtake us by morning.” 

“By the goddess,” Alanna murmured, her impotent rage coming across the spell to mingle with Numair’s.

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised, “I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“Try to hold as long as you can. Help is on the way,” said Alanna, her need for action in the face of impossible odds coming through in the form of a promise.

He closed the speaking spell without responding. It would do no good to voice his doubts. Not when there was nothing the king or The Lioness could do about it. 

While he had been speaking to Alanna and Jonathan, the queen had found her way up to the wall, Sarge, Buri, and Onua in tow.

“Tell me what’s happening,” said the queen, immediately the commander she had been born to be. George quickly filled her in.

The children had followed as well, sensing the adult’s distress and searching for answers. Daine took charge of them, gently promising to explain everything if they came to help her below in the stable. Apparently, the ponies and livestock had also sensed the tension and grown restless.

George and Thayet took charge of the waking defenders, setting up lines along the walls and assigning those who could not fight to tasks in the courtyard, either as runners or in support of the healers.

All the while, Numair stood on the observation deck and looked out over the horizon. 

If the Emperor Mage had sent this attack, which Numair was almost sure he had, that meant Ozorne would know he was within the fortress. Ozorne would have a plan in place to deal with his one-time friend.

When the fog eventually settled over Pirate’s Swoop, Numair cursed himself.

While they were not those dampening spells that Ozorne had specifically designed to combat Numair’s gift, they were filled with so much intermingling magic he wouldn’t be able to break them. Underneath that, shielded from lesser gifts by the twining magic of the dampeners, was a complex siphoning spell.

In a masterstroke by his enemy, Numair was left with a choice. He could let the gifted in the fortress suffer under the siphoning and dampening spells while he fought the war barges in the bay, or he could create a shield over everyone so that the siphoning spell fed from his gift alone and let the barges ravage the walls.

It wasn’t a choice at all. The lesser gifted would likely die as their gifts began to tear at their lifeforce in an attempt to regenerate under the siphoning spell and those with healing magic would be unable to help those injured while stifled by the dampeners.

“Ozorne, you bastard,” he said under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” asked Daine quietly, infiltrating his dark thoughts.

Glancing at her, he tried to smile, but his hate turned it sour.

“That bad?” she asked with a defeated sigh.

“It’s nothing,” he tried to tell her.

Without a word, she stepped over and put her hand into his, allowing her silent strength to wash over him and within its embrace he found himself confessing to the girl who had become so important to him in such a short time. “These spells have left me with few options when everyone is expecting a miracle.”

“Only gods can create miracles,” she said, turning to him with a half smile, “Last I checked, despite your very high opinion of yourself, you’re still just a mortal.”

In spite of his fears, he squeezed her hand and managed to smile down at her, “Thank you, magelet.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, her demeanor changing now that she had gotten a smile out of him.

He shook his head, “I’m afraid wild magic won’t do us much good right now. Not unless we intend to build an army of weasels and marmots.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Daine didn’t recognize it as such. “I can’t ask. This isn’t their fight. You understand, don’t you?”

Frowning, he nodded, “I understand completely.”

Daine opened her mouth to say something but stopped, her eyes going wide. “Stormwing!” 

From within the fog emerged the stormwing Daine had sensed, an elegant white flag in one claw and a scroll in the other. 

Daine raised her bow, the picture of unflappable calm as she aimed at the immortal who hovered before them.

“That’s not very nice,” hissed the stormwing, not realizing the peril he was in.

George stepped forward, an out-of-place smile on his face, “Ya’ve brought terms?”

The stormwing smiled evilly and dropped the scroll at George’s feet. The baron picked it up, read it, and tranquily tore it up. “Ye can tell yur handler what I tink of deir ‘terms’.”

The stormwing laughed and, as if triggered by the sound, the fog lifted to reveal twenty-seven ships. They were long, flat, barges with catapults bolted to their decks. Next to the slings, stacked neatly into pyramids, were boulders twice the size of a man.

Numair shuddered at the sight of the Carthaki war barges, and the stormwing looked down upon him with glee. “We so hoped that would be your answer. Queen Bitterclaws has been waiting to get her hands on you.”

“She can keep waiting in the Black God’s realm,” said Daine defiantly.

The stormwing laughed, it’s echoing cackle left behind as it flapped its great wings and wheeled toward the ships. 

“What were the terms?” asked Thayet.

George grimaced, “We turn over yurself and de royal children, or dey destroy da walls and take what dey want.”

Thayet’s grimace matched George’s in its darkness, “Those bastards.”

Numair looked back toward the ships. “It wasn’t exactly an idle threat. There are red robes at the helm of each ship and a yellow robe at each of the catapults. They’ll bring the walls down in a matter of hours. Our only saving grace is that they need the queen and royal children alive if Ozorne hopes to use them against Jonathan.”

“What do the robes mean?” asked Daine.

As a reflex, Numair explained, “Red robes are masters. Yellow is adepts.”

“What color robe are you?” she asked.

“None. Those robes are heavy,” Numair replied. It was meant to be a joke, but the tension in his voice made it fall flat. 

Unfortunately for Numair, Onua was ready with a legitimate answer. “He’s a black robe. One of only seven in the world.”

“It’s not as impressive as it sounds,” he muttered before raising his voice to say, “We need a plan.”

“We have ta keep 'em busy,” said George, “Like ya said, dey’ll only bring down da walls at de last. If we can hold out, de navy 'n army can come pull our arses out de fire.”

“How far out is the navy?” Onua asked.

George sighed, “Two days at de least.”

They didn’t have that long. Numair could feel pinpricks dance along his skin just before a golden light flashed between two of the barges, ripping a hole between the realms. From within, dozens of stormwings emerged.

“Archers!” cried Thayet.

Raising her bow to the sky, Daine let loose an arrow that cut the messenger stormwing clean through, sending him falling into the waves below.

The rip between realms closed and a pop sounded in Numair’s ears. Immediately, every gifted person nearby gasped, the pain nearly crippling as their gift was hit by the combined power of the dampening and siphoning spells. 

Numair whirled to sit on the ground with his back against the guard wall. Calling forth his gift he molded it to create a dome over Pirate’s Swoop, shielding all those within. The siphon shifted focus, tearing at his gift like claws on skin while, around him, the battle unfolded into chaos.

Grappling hooks flew up to find purchase on the guard walls at the back of the fortress. The archers there went to work, knocking back the soldiers who had exited the forest to attack. Meanwhile, at the seaward side, stormwings dove at the defenders. Alloy wings flashed in the morning sun with each bank and plunge that tore through the ranks.

Large silver talons gripped Sarge by the shoulders. The large man fought but was gradually pulled to the edge where many of his comrades had already been dropped to the jagged rocks below. An arrow from amidst the battle hit Sarge’s attacker in the throat. The man quickly rid himself of the creature and collapsed, his skin glistening with blood as thick gashes made by metal wings oozed.

Seeing Sarge fall, the princess Kalasin ripped away from her caretaker to dash up the stairs. She slid to her knees at Sarge’s side and held her hands over a deep gash in his abdomen. Using her gift, she began knitting together the wound as if her own life depended on it.

A female stormwing with a crown of black glass arose from amidst the swarm of flashing metal wings and arrowheads, letting out a war cry that made blood curdle. Queen Bitterclaw's eyes sang of hatred as she dove toward Numair.

Just before the stormwing queen would have reached the wall, an osprey flew out of the trees to dig its claws into her scalp. In a show of bravery uncharacteristic of his kind, the bird began pecking at the monster’s remaining eye.

“STOP!” Daine yelled, watching her feathered friend in horror. 

The queen stormwing fought her attacker, swiping at him with steel feathers that sliced the osprey in multiple places and caused the bird to screech in pain.

“NO!” Daine yelled again, but this time there was a strange quality to her voice, one that seemed to transcend the physical word. As if restrained by an invisible rope, the osprey was pulled back to the tree from whence it came.

Blind and barely held aloft by her massive wings, the queen stormwing let out a loud screech. Summoned by the sound, every stormwing turned to look at their queen before turning murderous eyes on Daine. Ignoring the rest, the girl kept her eyes on the queen, her entire body stiff with rage. In one fluid motion, she raised her bow and loosed one expertly aimed arrow into the stormwing's heart. Queen Bitterclaw’s cry of agony followed her down to the rocks below.

With the queen gone, the stormwings scattered, diving to the rocks below to pick at the necrotic flesh of the men and women who had given their lives in defense of Pirate’s Swoop.

One stormwing, a male with pale skin and bones braided in his ebony hair, remained calm amongst the freed glee of his companions, watching Daine from where he hovered just over the edge of the wall. Daine turned her drawn bow on him and raised her chin, daring him to attack. The stormwing smirked as if intrigued by something, then turned to fly away. Daine kept her aim trained on the monster until her arms began to shake under the strain.

Then the bow slipped from her hands to land on the stones with an echoing clack.

She clapped her hands over her ears, pressing with such force that she looked as if she were trying to crush her own skull.

Numair’s hold on the shield shattered as her magic hit him, pulling at him as it had the night of the Stormwing attack.

A dragon appeared from thin air, hovering only a few feet from Numair and his agonized student. Its luminous crimson scales twinkled in the sun while leathery skin, pulled taut over silver bones, created bat-like wings that easily held the dragon aloft.

The dragon roared and blood, thick and red, started draining from Daine’s nose as she screamed in agony.

Numair tried to create a barrier between Daine and the winged creature, but its claws passed through the magic as if it were smoke to scoop Daine into its silver claws.

Trying to escape, Daine pushed against its scaly hide but as her palms made contact with the dragon’s skin, both girl and dragon turned awe-filled eyes on each other. Then the dragon convulsed as if it had been struck by lightning, dropping Daine toward the deadly rocks below. 

Numair’s magic reacted without direction, following Daine down to stop her just short of death.

Panting heavily, the dragon flapped its great wings and ascended back into the sky.

Pulling Daine back up to safety, Numair grabbed her up in a hug the moment her feet touched the stone. 

“She was in labor,” Daine murmured into his chest, her voice brittle, “She was on her way home when the mages opened the hole between realms and brought her here. It killed her baby, but- it was like the healing was pulled out of me. I-”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and Numair caught her, lifting her thin body into his arms. Terrified eyes, enhanced by magical sight, searched for her lifeforce and tired lungs sighed with relief when he saw it pulse dimly beneath a small flame of copper magic. She had only exhausted herself.

George was there a heartbeat later, his entire body tense. He opened his mouth to speak but someone screamed, “Kalasin!”

At the panicked sound of the princess’ name, both George and Numair looked up to see that Kalasin had collapsed next to the injured Sarge.

Thayet was at her side, swiping black hair out of her daughter’s face as tears streamed down her cheeks. The queen prayed for her little girl’s life, fully prepared to give her own as payment.

That is when Numair realized what he’d done.

Cursing, he sat down with Daine still in his arms, quickly rebuilding the shield around the fortress. 

A sigh of relief settled in his ears like a weight as someone said, “The princess is fine. She only exhausted herself.”

That brave little girl could have died, all because he had acted without thinking.

That knowledge hit him like a brick dropped from the keep.

“George?” Numair could feel the man’s presence like a shadow. “Take her.”

Daine’s slight weight was lifted from him.

“Are you alright?” asked Onua.

“No.”

Onua sighed heavily, the only hint of understanding she could voice. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet so you can concentrate.”

He nodded and allowed himself to be led from the observation deck and into the castle.


	14. Reluctant Trust

Evening had come to find the two sides at a stalemate.

The peace that descended over Pirate’s Swoop was tainted by the knowledge that it was finite. While the stormwings gorged themselves on the dead, the enemy soldiers at the back of the fortress regrouped. Yet the war barges loomed on the horizon. They couldn’t do much in the darkness of night but, when morning came, they would reduce the walls to rubble. 

Time ticked by in tense silence as Numair kept his vigilance over Pirate’s Swoop, sweating so much that his usually curly hair had become plastered to his head. His trembling body demanded that he give in and let the barrier fall, but he refused. As long as he was alive, he would do everything he could. Consequences be damned.

The door opening was followed by the sound of his water jug being picked up. The door opened again and a few moments later another, full, pitcher was being set down.

“Thank you,” he whispered and opened his eyes to see that his water-delivering savior was Daine.

Numair frowned and Daine scowled right back at him, her exhaustion making her seem much older than fifteen.

“Onua said I wasn’t allowed in here. I wonder why that was.”

Numair sighed and tried to reach for the water jug and tankard but his hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t get a grip.

Daine let out a long breath and poured the water for him, her expression softening as she watched him drain the tankard dry.

“You’re still keeping those dampeners off?” she asked, her voice tense.

He nodded.

Daine cursed vividly, “Gods, Numair, the last thing you should be is alone! You look like you’re half-dead!”

He smirked, “That’s my magelet, waiting in the wings to destroy my vanity.”

“Very funny,” she drawled, her concern tinting her words with biting sarcasm, “I’m so glad you’ve been able to maintain your sense of humor in the face of death.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he assured her, trying to put as much confidence behind the words as he could muster.

“Mouse manure!” she hissed, “The spells are draining you! I can see it!”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you can see it?”

She blanched at the question, her impotent anger draining away like the wind out of a sail, “You remember when we were in the clearing and I could see the red around your feet? Since you did that spell to keep me from going wild, I’ve been able to see it all the time. Now it's- it’s gone.”

Tears seeped into the end of her sentence, betraying her barely concealed fear. To distract herself, Daine began pulling off his boots in an attempt to make him more comfortable but when she went to adjust his pillows, he captured her hand. Their eyes met and he saw that the ghosts had returned to haunt her for the first time since she had confessed to him in the cave.

His heart clenched painfully and the shield began to weaken. Remembering what was at stake, he closed his eyes and renewed the spell he held over the fortress.

Renewing the power of the shield had begun to hurt, sending bolts of pain through his spine. Daine sucked in a breath through her teeth and Numair realized he had clenched his hand around hers. Contritely, he tried to pull his hand away but she refused to let him go.

“They could probably use your help on the walls,” he said in a raspy whisper that almost pleaded for her to walk away.

“I’m needed here more,” Daine sat on the end of the bed, her voice like iron, “Tell me the truth. How much longer can you keep this up?”

He sighed heavily, “If it were just dampeners, I would be fine for a few days, but there’s also a siphoning spell, a potent one. I cannot regenerate power fast enough to combat it. Before long, my gift will start pulling from my life force.”

“Gods! There has to be another way!”

He left silence between them long enough to reinforce the shield once more and when he spoke again the resulting weakness was apparent in his voice, “There isn’t. The moment I drop the shield the siphon will start to draw off every gifted person here. Most would last a couple of hours, but Kalasin wouldn’t last twenty minutes.”

“The dampening spells don’t affect my magic, right?” Daine asked.

"Thank the gods.” Though his words were spoken in an attempt at levity, a line of contemplation formed between her brows.

She remained that way for a long moment until she suddenly exclaimed, “Whales!”

“What about the whales?” he asked, exhaustion making his thoughts slow.

“They’re big, right? Big enough to turn over the boats?” she asked in a rush.

He frowned, “I thought you wouldn’t ask the animals to fight?”

She looked down, hiding her face from him, “I’m going to get hurt either way. At least if I ask the whales for help, I’ll know I did everything I could.” 

Afraid to hope that she really could provide the miracle he needed, and even more fearful that she couldn’t, he asked, “You really think you can get the whales to help?”

“I’m not sure. I’m still pretty drained and they’re really far out. If I could get to the ocean, I know I could talk to them, but maybe there’s a cold place in the cellar or something.”

Numair gritted his teeth against the words he knew must be spoken if they were to survive this. “Talk to George. He’ll get you to the water.”

Daine’s hand slipped out of his as she shot to her feet, “You think he can?”

“George always has some trick or another up his sleeve. If anyone can help you, it’s him.”

“Alright,” she said and took two steps toward the door before stopping. Turning back, she came over and kissed Numair on the cheek, “Wish me luck.”

He hugged her as best he could with arms that felt like lead. “Good luck and, please be careful, magelet.”

“I will,” she promised and pulled away.

The door closing behind her was like a nail in his heart.


	15. Saviors

The moment the siphon began feeding off his life force it felt like fire igniting in his veins, burning him from the inside out.

Gritting his teeth, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and tried to stand. He barely caught himself on the bedpost when his knees buckled.

Every movement tripled his pain but, through sheer will alone, he made it to the door and pulled it open. Hanging on the door frame with fingers that felt disembodied, he tried to call for help. It came out as a raspy whisper.

“Master Numair!” said a rider trainee, Daine’s friend Evin. The young man caught him just as Numair’s knees buckled a second time.

“George. I need-” Numair’s attempted words ended with a hiss as the siphon pressed on him like a boulder. Panting, Numair forced himself to speak, “I’m- Out of time.”

Evin slung Numair’s arm over his shoulders, half-dragging the mage toward the courtyard. 

George was issuing orders to some guards when he saw Numair and rushed over to support the mage’s other side. Taking in Numair’s greying skin and hollow eyes, he looked at the mage as if he were already a corpse. “My gods.”

“He said we’re out of time,” said Evin, naturally afraid of what the statement could mean. Except that the young man had gotten the message wrong. They weren’t out of time. Numair was.

“We gotta get ta de observation deck,” George told Evin but in a quieter voice, meant only for Numair he said, “It’s time ta change strategies, friend.”

“Too late- Kalasin-,” Numair’s voice was so weak he wasn’t sure what he’d said had registered with the Baron until George turned a grimace on him.

“How long?” George asked softly.

Numair shook his head. His death could take hours, or it could take minutes. There was no way to tell, but the moment the shield broke, it would all be over. Unless a miracle happened.

“Daine?” asked Numair.

“She’s been gone for hours,” said Evin, his voice cracking slightly.

“She’s fine,” George asserted.

Evin reluctantly nodded in agreement as they started up the stairs toward the observation deck. 

Dawn was beginning to crest the horizon, backlighting Thayet, Onua, and Buri as they stood looking out over the ocean. The three women turned at the sound of footsteps and openly gaped at the state Numair was in. Their wide eyes followed him as he was deposited next to the guard wall. Numair immediately sat back and closed his eyes to renew the strength of the barrier. His heart rate began to slow. The pain was subsiding, which might have been a good thing except that it had been replaced with bone-deep cold. He was reaching the end.

“Is he alright?” Onua asked George in a whisper. Numair was sure the baron shook his head judging from the horse mistress’ sudden intake of breath.

As the others strategized, Numair thought about the inevitability of his demise. He could hear Ozorne’s concerned words from those days when he’d still been Arram Draper, when they had still been friends. “You don’t always have to be the hero. It’s dangerous. Heroes are predictable. That’s why they always lose in the end.”

Ozorne knew him too well.

A voice that was half bird of prey and half human male broke through Numair’s dark thoughts.

“I’ve been instructed to offer you one last chance to surrender, but after what you did to Queen Bitterclaws, I truly hope you decline."

“We’ll surrender nothing,” Thayet spat, “Tell your handlers that they’ve just bought mine and my husband’s eternal enmity!”

“You won’t live long enough to care about enmity!” snarled the stormwing and, with the grating sound of scraping metal, the creature flew away.

A moment later, the world shook. The bombardment had begun.

One hope rose above the others, Daine could have escaped the fate of Pirate’s Swoop. In sending his magelet into danger, he might have saved her life.

Something nearby called to him, whispering in the hollow echo of a thousand birds. Numair opened his eyes to find Daine’s bow laying on the stone beside him. He pulled the weapon into his lap, gripping it in shaking fingers, and silently said goodbye to the girl whose laugh had warmed his soul.

As if mirroring the effect of her presence, the bow grew warm beneath his icy fingers.

Tendrils of copper light rose from the bow to twist around his gift. Together, the magics danced through the air until they found the shield over the fortress. The magics melted against it, painting over the invisible barrier to become a mass of black marble strengthened with veins of copper. The siphon tried to tear at the new shield but was unable to feed on the powerful combination of gift and wild magic, leaping away like a hand burned by fire.

“Get below!” yelled Thayet. 

“NO! WAIT! THAT’S DAINE!” shouted Onua.

Numair looked up to see that Daine was wrapped in silver claws, waving her arms and warning the archers below not to fire. The dragon that carried her came to hover in the open air beside the observation deck, carefully depositing a windswept Daine onto the stones.

Numair tried to stand but his knees buckled beneath him. Daine caught him, turning him in the direction of the harbor.

Alight with righteous fury, the dragon flew above the war badges as magefire in a dozen colors flew at her. Despite their best efforts, she passed through the steel-melting magics as if they were nothing more than mist. She went for the catapults, tearing through them with claws that had just a moment ago gently carried Numair’s student back to him.

“She heard me talking to the whales,” Daine whispered, watching the destruction in awe, “She agreed to help, said it was justice for stealing her from her home,” 

Numair couldn’t believe what his eyes and body told him as hope, dangerous and red-hot bloomed in his chest.

Stormwings ascended from the rocks below, flying in a flurry of metal and flesh toward the magnificent creature. Numair lifted the hand that still held Daine's bow and forced the weapon into her hand. She nodded at him, stubborn chin rising as she stepped away and notched an arrow. When she loosed, it was with such determined grace that Numair knew he would never see anything more beautiful again in his life.

Daine was joined by other archers, arrows flying through the skies to strike true in the flesh of the monsters who had been feasting on their dead comrades.

Then, on the far side of the formation, barges turned. The red-robed mages raised their arms and began to manipulate rock into a form most deadly.

“Oh, gods!” he breathed and turned panicked eyes on Daine, “Call her back! Quick! They’re loading the catapults with liquid fire!”

With terror shadowing her features, Daine turned toward the scene and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, it was with tears glistening at the corners.

“She won’t come back!”

“She’ll die, Daine! Call her back!”

Daine yelled into the chaos with all her strength, the wild magic coming from her like a tsunami. “COME BACK!”

The dragon roared an ear-shattering roar that Numair could feel deep within his soul. The dragon banked, going for the main ship. Holding her hands out in front of her, she emitted fire from her palms so hot that it seared everything in its path.

The catapults dipped back.

Clear orbs flew through the air to shatter against the dragon’s hide, enveloping her in a magical green fire.

A shrill, ear-ravaging, roar cut through the chaos. Everything that the sound touched seemed to freeze as friend and enemy alike stared at the scene. 

The great immortal plunged into the water, the green fire still highlighting her body as she sank into the depths.

“NO!” Daine’s scream cracked through the silence, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at the falling dragon. 

She fell against the guard wall, her hands bracing against the stone as if she were about to toss herself to the rocks below. “I’LL KILL THEM! I’LL KILL THEM ALL!”

The shield around the fortress exploded outward, and nature itself reacted to her pain, crying out with her as a giant black tentacle rose from the waves. It was followed by a dozen more, each of them sliding across the remaining barges and pulling them under in a song of splintering wood and human agony.

Then, just as quickly as the monster had appeared, it left among a torrent of bubbles.

“What WAS all dat?” asked George in awe.

Daine was breathing heavily, bracing herself against the guard wall and visibly trembling, her eyes still fixed on the place where the dragon had died. “It calls itself the Kraken. It said I called it with my rage.”

Her rage had done far more. The dampening and siphon spell was gone.

Numair touched her shoulder with gentle fingers and she spun around, her entire body radiating with the heat of her grief. When she met his equally devastated gaze something within the girl broke and she collapsed against him, nearly sending him to the pavement. It was only through sheer will he managed to remain upright as she wept into his chest.

A horn blast followed by the sound of clashing against metal came from somewhere in the distance but while Numair heard George whisper, “Alanna,” and move to yell for the captain of the guard, the mage couldn’t find it within himself to consider the day a victory.

“So many dead,” Daine said numbly, her emotional well running dry.

Swaying, Numair let Daine go and fell back against the guard wall. It guided him back to the ground where he sat with his head in his hands. He felt heavy and slow, the world around him turning into a watery image filled only with the golden light of early dawn.

“Too many," he said quietly, "far too many.”

Daine sat beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Does it ever end?”

He looked up at the brighter light of the breaking dawn, “No, but it’s the peace in between that makes it all worth it.”

She hadn’t heard him, she was already asleep.

Laying his head on top of hers, he followed her into the darkness.


	16. Thanks

Numair wished for the thousandth time that the Graveyard Hag would choose her meeting times with more care. He was utterly exhausted and not in the mood for games.

“I was worried about you there for a moment,” said the sickly sweet voice that haunted his dreamscape, “but it looks like your little student came through. This would be the second time she’s saved your life.”

“You speak as if you expect that to change things.”

The goddess passed him a mischievous smile, “Doesn’t it?”

“No,” he replied flatly, “So why don’t you get to the point so that I can get back to sleep.”

The Graveyard Hag cackled, “You might not be as clever as I gave you credit for. Still,” the hag shrugged, “You’ve done what you were expected to do, and for that, you should be proud. In fact, I think you deserve a little reward.”

She waved her hand and a roll of parchment appeared in her fingers. The goddess held it out to him and he took it with a frown. Unrolling it, he found a series of complicated spells. Numair’s head shot up, wide eyes searching for some trick or lie.

“Oh, close your mouth, you fool.”

“Why would you give these to me?”

The goddess rolled her eyes, “Surely a clever boy like yourself would know what to do with a spell meant to trap him?”

“Yes, but why?”

The goddess smiled evilly, “You’ll see soon enough.”

“What does that mean?”

He never received an answer as a cool hand on his shoulder gently shook him awake. He blinked his eyes open to find a pair of smiling amethyst eyes looking down at him.

“You damned dolts. You two are going to catch your deaths out here.”

He shifted to stretch aching limbs but froze as a still sleeping Daine stirred and resettled against him.

Alanna smirked, glancing at Daine's sleeping form, “Seems like I left you in good hands.”

Numair gave his friend a watery smile, “That you did.”

Alanna chuckled, “George couldn’t wait to tell me about it all. A dragon and a Kraken? It sounds like something from ancient myth.”

“I can hardly believe it myself,” said Numair with a deep yawn.

“Well, I’ll want details later but, for now, why don’t we get you two somewhere warmer?”

Numair nodded sleepily. Carefully, and with Alanna’s help, he managed to get upright with Daine cradled in his arms. As they descended the steps, he heard the clacking of hooves and exasperated neighs. 

Sighing, he made his way toward the stable rather than the castle. Alanna didn’t bother asking why, It was obvious as soon as Cloud set eyes on Daine, her head bobbing from over the stall as she tried to get a good look at the girl.

“She’s just tired,” Numair assured the pony and laid Daine on the bed she had made for herself near the back wall. Daine rolled to her side, getting settled with a sigh. 

Numair smiled fondly down at the girl who had turned his world upside down. Without looking away, he asked Alanna to have a comfortable chair brought to the stable.

“Wouldn’t you rather sleep in a bed? In the castle?” she asked him.

He shook his head with a chuckle, “You know me, I can sleep anywhere as long as it's warm.”

Alanna shook her head humorously and left to ask one of the servants to bring the overstuffed chair from her study. Once it was delivered, Numair pulled it up beside the bed and leaned back.

“Thank you,” he said as he drifted back to sleep.

“No, I should be thanking you. Both of you.”


	17. Welcome Home

When Numair woke again, it was to the sounds of early morning and the shuffling of hay. Turning toward the latter sound, he opened his eyes to find three children feeding the ponies and horses.

With a smile, he stretched and groaned at the stiffness of his joints. He still felt reasonably tired, but more than anything he was starving.

Upon hearing him Kalasin, Thom, and Roald bounced over with smiles so large he thought their faces might split.

“You’re awake!” exclaimed Roald.

“Am I?” Numair joked, “No, I have to be dreaming. There’s no way you three would be doing chores.”

Kalasin looked highly offended, her hands on her hips, “Excuse me but we’ve been taking care of the ponies by ourselves for three days!”

“Yeah!” added Thom, “They’re our friends too!”

Numair chuckled and reached over to pat Thom on the head, “Well, in that case, I’m glad the ponies have friends as loyal as you three.” Turning his gaze on Kalasin, Numair asked, “How do you feel, your highness?”

She looked down contritely, “Fine. After I woke up, mother was very upset but then called me the bravest person in the kingdom and hugged me. I was very confused.”

The mage couldn’t help but laugh as he could almost hear Thayet’s harsh but proud words. He took Kalasin’s hand in his and squeezed it lightly, “I never understood my parents either. Confusing bunch, the lot of them!”

Kalasin giggled quietly behind her hand.

“Are you hungry?” asked Thom, “Mother said you would be when you woke up.”

Numair smiled, “Famished.”

The children were already on their way out the door before he could stop them, “We’ll get you something from the kitchen. Don’t worry.”

Once they had disappeared, Numair looked down at Daine who was snoring softly. Gingerly, he reached out and pulled the covers back up over her shoulders. She shifted, a deep frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he admonished in a whisper, “Not when there is so much to smile about.”

The children returned a short time later, bearing a tray of sweet rolls and juice. He ate greedily as the children returned to caring for the ponies. Once sated, he sat back and watched them. 

Though she was deep in dreams, he could see Daine in everything the children did. They asked permission before bringing the brushes to the ponies’ noses and the ponies reacted to the children the way they would have to Daine, answering the children’s questions with hoof beats and soft neighs.

It was almost noon when the children finished, bidding him goodbye to play in the yard. It wasn’t long after they left that Daine’s eyes fluttered open.

“Well, hello there, magelet,” he greeted.

Her eyes flew wide, “How long was I asleep?”

“Three days,” he replied absently as he handed her a cup of juice.

She set the cup aside, “I have to go out.”

His eyebrows shot up, “Don’t be silly. You’ve only just woken up. You’re staying here.”

Her chin rose, “That is where you’re wrong.”

Swinging her feet off the bed, she stood. For a moment she stopped, her hands held out to her sides to keep her balance. Numair reached out to steady her but she was already moving again, disappearing behind a stall that she used as a dressing room.

Nearby, Cloud stomped her hooves in annoyance.

“Cloud’s right,” he said to her from his chair, “you need to rest and eat.”

“Come along if you’re so worried.” It was unclear if she was speaking to him or Cloud.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Can you at least tell me what is so urgent?”

She stepped out from behind the stall in new clothes, her focus on her feet, “I don’t know. I just know it’s important and that if I wait, it’ll be too late.”

Sighing, he stood, “We’ll need an escort if we’re going beyond the walls as there might still be enemies out there. Do you even know where we are going?”

She closed her eyes as if there was a map behind her eyelids, “Northwest. Along the cliff. There’s a cave.” When her eyes opened she turned a worried gaze on him, “We have to hurry.”

“Then we’ll hurry,” he said simply as if he hadn’t just spent the few last moments arguing with her.

Daine smiled at him in gratitude, “I’ll get Cloud and Spots ready. You go gather an escort.”

Before he left to do as she ordered, he glanced back to find her struggling with Cloud’s saddle. Shaking his head, he turned to find Miri walking past. Capturing her gaze, he gestured toward the stable in annoyance.

“Would you help Daine saddle Cloud, please? She’s far too stubborn for her own good.”

Miri chuckled and nodded. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who knew just how ridiculous his magelet could be.

Numair steered his feet toward the barracks to find Alanna in the training yard with a few of the rider recruits. As soon as she saw him, she dismissed her trainees to practice in groups.

“I was wondering when you’d emerge. How’s Daine?”

He had to work not to mirror his friend’s knowing smile. “Utterly obdurate. She says she has to go beyond the walls as soon as possible. Is there any way you can get us an escort?”

Alanna chuckled, “Me and a few of my men will go with you. Did she say what is so important?”

He shook his head, “I swear by the Black God’s cloak, she’s going to send me to an early grave.”

“You could only be so lucky,” said Alanna, patting him mockingly on the arm as she pushed past him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose even though he was grinning, “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I am,” Alanna called over her shoulder, “I’m escorting you, aren’t I?”

Numair was still chuckling as he headed back toward the stables. He turned the corner just in time to see Daine emerge, Cloud following closely behind. The minute the girl entered the sunlight, three little blurs streaked across the yard to slam into her. Cloud had to stop her from being tackled to the ground by Kalasin, Thom, and Roald.

The children hugged her tightly as if she would disappear the moment they let her go.

“Ducklings,” murmured Alanna as she came alongside Numair with her stallion.

Numair couldn’t help but laugh.

When Daine finally managed to untangle herself, she looked down at each small face with glistening eyes and a grin, “I missed you all too.”

Banishing his grin, he pasted on a perturbed expression for Daine’s sake. Not that he had to reach far for it, this adventure was very ill-advised. 

“You said it was urgent,” he chided.

Daine nodded and promised the children some playtime after she returned so that they would let her go.

Miri emerged with Spots, and everyone mounted up, following Daine out of the gate.

She led them up a road that twisted along the cliff's edge, only coming to a stop once they’d reached the mouth of a giant cave.

Dismounting, she walked into the cave as if drawn by a tether only she could see. Numair swiftly followed, keeping close to her as they walked into the darkness.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” he asked as the end of the cave came into sight.

“I told you I don’t-”

She was cut off as the rock beneath her feet gave way. Automatically, he caught her with his gift, all-the-while wondering if his heart was permanently becoming lodged in his throat.

“Uh,” Daine said as she hovered just inside the hole's mouth, “Could you put me down in there? I think I found what I was looking for.”

Grumbling, Numair did as she requested.

He peered into the opening but was only greeted by pitch darkness.

“Daine?” he called when the silence began to stretch.

“You can bring us up now,” she replied.

“Us?” he asked, even as he reached out to her with his gift.

His question was answered as Daine rose from the darkness, a baby dragon wrapped in her arms.

Numair gaped at the sight of the powder-blue creature who was no bigger than a cat.

“The dragon, the one who helped us, she-” Daine’s voice broke as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Numair held up his hand to indicate that she didn’t need to explain.

“How did you know it was here?” he asked.

“I saw the cave in my dreams and just knew that I had to get here. That it was important.”

“It was that, indeed,” he said quietly and removed his cloak. He handed it to Daine who nodded thanks and used it to shelter the orphaned dragonet from the chill of the ocean air. Once she was done, he guided Daine out of the cave.

Alanna and her men had a similar reaction as Numair, each of them gazing at the baby dragon with awe-filled eyes and hanging jaws. Daine didn’t seem to notice, her eyes remaining transfixed on the bundle in her arms as she walked to Cloud. 

Numair held out his hands, offering to take the dragon while she mounted. At first, she seemed reluctant to do so but ultimately handed the bundle over. The dragonet barely moved, its eyelids hanging heavily over glassy slit-pupiled orbs. The little thing had been alone for far too long.

Once Daine was mounted, he handed the dragonet back to her. She gave him a grateful smile and he smiled back before turning to remount his gelding.

As they rode back, Numair kept to Daine’s side, watching her while she stroked and cooed to the dragonet.

“She’ll need a name,” he said.

“Her name’s Skysong,” Daine replied, but she seemed puzzled by her statement. 

“Maybe you can understand her like you did her mother?” he offered.

Daine shook her head, “No. I think her ma told me.”

He didn’t bother asking when. Neither of them needed another reminder of the price this little dragon had paid for their lives.

“Alanna?” he called toward the front of the escort. Automatically, the lioness pulled back her stallion to fall in beside him. “Do you have a copy of the draconian codex in your library?”

Alanna frowned, “No. I think they have one at the university in Corus.”

Numair waved away the suggestion, “I have one at the tower Daine can have.” 

Turning to Daine he told her that he would ride ahead to collect it and meet her at the crossroad.

She nodded without looking at him.

Accepting that, he kicked Spots into a gallop. The gelding was accommodating, racing down the cliffside toward his home.

Numair left Spots at the entrance as he jogged inside but as soon as he passed through the door, he froze.

Perched on his favorite reading chair was Preet. She chirped happily and flew over to land on his shoulder.

“You show up at the strangest times,” he told the sunbird, “What brings you here this time?”

Preet clucked and held out her leg to which a small scroll had been attached. 

Frowning, he detached it and scanned the excellently written script. It was a recipe; one part butter to two-part goat’s milk heated until steaming but not to boiling. 

“Who gave you this?”

Preet just chirped softly before flying out the open door.

Sighing, Numair collected the draconian codex from its place on the shelf and without thinking, stuffed the unrolled piece of parchment inside the cover.

Jogging back out, he remounted Spots and, without any input from Numair, the gelding galloped toward the crossroad.

He saw the escort coming down the road when he arrived, so he pulled up and waited for them. Once he had rejoined the group, he fell right back into position beside Daine, and there he stayed until they reached the fortress.

As if it had become routine, Numair dismounted and waited for Daine to hand him the baby dragon so she could do the same.

Alanna waved for them to follow her to the study. Once inside, Daine sat down in a chair near the fireplace and settled Skysong in her lap. 

Alanna didn’t stay long but told them to use the study as long as they wanted.

Numair lit a few candles with his gift and opened the book he’d been carrying since he’d left his tower. Skimming the contents, he found no mention of the nutritional needs of baby dragons. With a sigh, he finally understood the note Preet had brought him.

Whispering his thanks to the beautiful bird and whoever had sent the piece of parchment, he turned to Daine.

“I found a note on what baby dragons eat. All you need is a bottle. Seeing as baby dragon teeth are apparently pretty sharp, I would advise caution.”

Daine smiled up at him, “Thank you, Numair.”

He bowed his head to her and went to continue reading. He’d just turned to a page on dragon ages when Daine came to stand in front of him with Skysong in her arms.

“Can you take her while I find something to use as a bottle?”

Setting the book on a table, he nodded. As soon as Skysong was settled, Daine turned to leave, but Numair caught her wrist. With his other hand, he retrieved the note he’d gotten from Preet and held it out to her.

Daine quickly read it and looked at him in confusion.

“This isn’t your handwriting.”

“Know that for a fact, do you?” he joked.

She frowned, “Where did you get it?”

“A little bird gave it to me.”

Daine sighed, “You’ll explain later?”

“Of course.”

With a nod of acceptance, she left.

The dragonet, cradled in his lap, chirped softly and snuggled her snout into his shirt as if trying to hide. Numair started stroking her back and, in response, she yawned. 

Smirking, he whispered, “Go to sleep little one. Daine will be back soon.”

Skysong cooed and, as far as he could tell, did just that.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, petting the baby dragon before Daine returned. It was Numair’s turn to reluctantly hand over the small creature, who bristled at being woken up until Daine presented her with the bottle.

Picking the book back up, he found it hard to concentrate as his eyes kept drifting up to watch Daine feed Skysong. The dragonet drank greedily, draining the rather large bottle far faster than Numair thought possible.

Full and content, Skysong curled up on Daine’s lap and went right back to sleep, mewling softly. 

“She’s like a kitten,” Daine said as she stroked the dragonet’s sky blue flank, “Her ma told me they can change colors with their moods so I don’t think it would be bad if we called her Kitten sometimes.”

Numair bowed his head in agreement and tried again to read. Soon they were joined by Alanna who had George, Onua, and Kalasin in tow.

They were in awe of the sleeping dragon, everyone coming over to look at her closely.

Kalasin reached up to pet Skysong but stopped mid-motion to ask Daine, “Can I?”

“Just be gentle. I don’t want to wake her.”

Kalasin ran a tentative finger along the dragonet’s spine, her eyes going wide, “She’s so soft.”

Daine smiled, silently urging Kalasin on. Soon the girl was lightly stroking Skysong’s back, grinning.

Looking up, Daine passed Onua a sad smile, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay on with the riders past the summer. My duty’s to this one now.”

Onua frowned, “No one said you couldn’t work for me and rear this little one. I'm sure we can figure it out.”

Daine grinned, "Really?”

“Believe me, Daine, you have a job with me for as long as you want one.”

“Thank you,” Daine said, her voice tinged with awe at the woman’s words.

“And if you grow tired of Onua’s grouchiness, you could always come stay with me at the tower,” said Numair, his joke painting over the seriousness of his offer.

Seeing right through him, Daine chuckled, “Who could say no to having all those books at your fingertips?”

Numair shrugged, “Not me, obviously.”

Rolling her eyes, Alanna stepped forward, “And when he becomes an unbearable know-it-all, you’ll always have a home here at the Swoop.”

Daine shook her head comically, “It’s fair funny that I went from having no home to having three.”

Alanna clapped her on the shoulder, “Welcome to Tortall.”


End file.
